Chained Heat
by JezzicaSteal
Summary: Syracuse is a Free Agent. She was trained by the militia, but she escaped to take revenge on Monroe. Her mission is to kill him, even if it costs her her life. She joins forces with Charlie and the others to save Danny, and along the way falls for Miles. Features some lemons. Not suitable for all ages.
1. Chapter 1

The earth shifted as I dug my heels in, hidden behind the trunk of an old oak tree. Out in front of me, the sun was setting over the tops of trees that surrounded a field, in brilliant oranges and pastel colors. Its light turned the weeds to spun gold, and I watched the four people hiking through the field. I'd been tracking them for a few days, and they were none the wiser. From what I'd gathered, the girl's name was Charlie. The blonde woman and the fat man remained a mystery, but their leader was well known to me.

They settled in the field, starting to build a fire in their tiny camp. Night would be on them in an hour. The way they were headed, an old train rested on abandoned tracks, just barely in my line of sight. A good place to camp for the night. I crept silently through the trees, feet deftly skipping past sticks and rocks; the feet of a hunter, more skilled than any plain soldier alive, and more deadly than a great lioness, stalking her prey.

The train cars were in bad shape. The walls were broken and the ceilings were crumbling in many places. I found an intact one, and slung my pack inside, climbing up. It was open on both sides. Through the trees, I could see the fire flickering.

When I heard the telltale sound of something shuffling closer, through the overrun weeds outside, I shrank back, falling into the shadow in one corner. He stepped into view, and I froze.

It was him.

Miles Matheson. This was my opportunity. My hand crept to the short sword hung at my waste, then started agonizing sliding it out of its sheath. Matheson pulled himself into my train car, and looked around. His eyes landed on the backpack. I only had a second.

I drew my sword and lunged out, but he was fast. In an instant he'd drawn his sword, turned his body, met my swing and already positioned himself in the proper stance for fighting. A pang of fear shot through me. The legendary Miles Matheson.

He cut across faster than I could withdraw my sword, and I could only jump back. I came out from the shadows and hacked down, regaining my composure. He met that, and we exchanged a few simple blows. Then he swept his leg out and knocked me down. I hit the floor hard, and he tried to plunge his sword into me, but I knocked it aside, then tripped him in turn. He hit hard, as well, and we both climbed to our feet, keeping our distance, swords raised.

"You're the one who's been following us. Why?"

I winced. He had noticed me. "You're Miles Matheson. I needed to find you."

"To kill me?" He said it as if it was the most routine thing in the world for him. Like I was delivering a pizza.

"No. You left the militia five years ago, and for that reason, I'll let you live... if you tell me what I need to know."

"Which is?"

I eyed the door, wide open on my side, wondering if I could get out. This hadn't gone how I'd planned it would. He might be too good.

"Ah, ah-," he began, shaking his head, stepping to the side with the kind of grace only a master swordsman could have, making me move into the center to avoid him. "Not so fast. Rethinking things? Like maybe it won't be as easy as you thought, getting me to talk? Just tell me what you want."

My voice trembled. "He can't know I'm looking for him."

His jaw tightened. "Monroe? That's it, isn't it? He sent you? You're working for him? Who are you trying to find?"

I turned, moving to jump out the other side of the train car, but Miles dashed forward, snagging my arm and hauling me back. I whirled, wrenching my arm free and swinging my sword again. He stopped it with deadly speed, then we exchanged another few blows, and he stepped forward, forcing me back. With a quick twist, he sent by blade skittering across the wood of the floor. Matheson sheathed his with a quick movement. His hands snagged my wrists and he slammed me back into the wall. He froze when his hand felt the bumpy scar on my wrist. With only his one hand, he shoved my sleeve down. The scar was circular, but so muddled from me trying to cut out the pattern of the 'M' that it didn't read as anything.

"You're a free agent."

I strained against him, wrists aching with what would be bruises tomorrow, but I was powerless. He was too strong. Finally, I gave up fighting.

"I'm not working for Monroe," I said. "I'm gonna kill him."

A hint of a disbelieving smile touched his lips, as if to say, 'Good luck with that'. Then, he actually did say, "Good luck with that."

"I wanted to get information from you. That's all."

"I don't know. I might have to kill you."

I was panting heavily, from the exertion and the fear. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

This earned a harsh chuckle from him. "You're right there. You're really good with a sword. Too dangerous to let go."

"...Then again," I began nervously, "You're even better, and you're with company. I wouldn't stand a chance. I'm alone."

"Show me a man or a woman alone, and I'll show you a saint."

"Give me two and they'll fall in love," I added. It was one of my favorite quotes, from my favorite book.

Matheson drew back, looking at me funny. Amazed. So few people knew how to read these days. The chances of us finding each other, having read the same enormous book and memorized the same quote.

"That's impossible."

It struck me how handsome he was. Not just handsome. Ruggedly sexy. Skilled with a blade, clever, and he'd read _The Stand_. I'd always found I'd only considered someone attractive if their personality had appealed to me.

"Just let me go."

"Or..." He shrugged. He slid closer, and I stiffened. His hands were still anchoring my arms to the wall. Matheson slid one leg in between mine, and spread them. He pressed his hips to mine, where I could feel his erection. I gasped, letting out a low moan as he hit a spot that made my insides tighten.

His face was close to mine, brown eyes burning with lust, but not aggression. Silently waiting for my response.

The lights had gone out when I was twelve. I had been taken into the militia when I was seventeen. In the five years between, I'd had one friend, and he was a gay boy named James. I'd never been kissed. I'd never had sex.

It felt good, having a man so close to me. I didn't think it could be so wonderful feeling. The sensation, the heat, the need. I leaned forward and softly shaped my lips to his. He reacted slowly, pushing his tongue into my mouth. It became more passionate, and we were fighting for control. I pushed my hips against him in fluid motions.

Matheson pulled back. He obviously didn't trust me, because he pushed both my arms over my head to hold them with one hand. With his free hand, he reached for my shirt. It was a button-down, blue plaid.

"Don't-," I called.

He paused, then tugged my shirt open. The bra I wore was light blue cotton, cupping my small breasts nicely. My ribs showed a little at my stomach, but who wasn't starving these days? What really concerned me were the dozens of long, jagged scars the disrupted the milky skin of my chest, following no pattern. They were ugly and horrible to look at. I turned my head away, shutting my eyes, waiting for rejection.

Matheson pressed his lips to the top of my right breast, his hand moving to touch the other. His fingertips found their way under the bra, gently rolling my nipple between them. I focused on breathing, feeling wetness pool in between my thighs.

For a moment, he contemplated what to do. He let my hands go. Then his hand was working at shoving my jeans down. They got stuck on my boots, and he swore under his breath. He suddenly ducked under them, coming up in between my legs, then working to undo his own. He grabbed my hips and lifted me. I draped my arms over his shoulders, clenching my fists as he pushed his erection into me. I gasped. Matheson froze. He could tell it was my first time. I wasn't sure if you could tell. He waited, agonizingly still. His eyes were dark brown, questioning. I nodded vigorously for him to keep going.

He moved his hips, pulling out, then sliding back in. I ached, but I'd had so much pain in my life that this was easily ignored. I lifted my hips to meet his movements, keeping slow at first. It was hard to adjust to the stretching sensation. There was suddenly space where there hadn't been before. Lots of nerve endings that hadn't been active were now subject to sensation.

Matheson was large. He took a few minutes of slow, shallow movements before he pushed further, and fit his entire length inside me.

It felt so good that I marveled that I'd lived twenty five years without it. He started thrusting into me more harshly, breath coming in ragged gasps. He twisted a hand in my hair and tugged. I dropped my head back and he kissed my neck. I tried to move my hips in a circular motion. (I'd read that in a romance novel, and it seemed like it would be pleasurable.) Matheson let out a groan, continuing to push into me. He changed his angle suddenly, so the head of his erection was hitting a spot that made each thrust feel like an entirely new sensation.

One hand reached down. His slender fingers slid through the wetness at my center, and found my clit. I pushed into his hand. With a few more of his thrusts, a high-pitched cry burst out of me and all my muscles clenched. He continued to thrust until I was all played out, feeling like rubber. He pulled out and eased my legs to the ground, keeping one arm around me because I was in danger of collapsing. For a second he closed his eyes. His jaw clenched, and then he sighed.

I touched the prickly side of his face as he kissed me once more, softly. Once on the lips, then on the forehead, brushing brown hair out of my blue eyes. A rare tender moment in the long stretch of cruelty that had been my life.

"Your name?" he rasped.

"Syracuse."

He nodded, rolling his eyes. "Right. Not your real name, I take it?"

"As real as any, Mr. Matheson," I said, pulling my pants up and buttoning them. "So. What now? Are you going to tell me what I need to know about Sebastian Monroe?"

He sized me up for a moment. Outside, the sky had faded to twilight. Stars were beginning to come out. The faint outline of the moon was visible, a full moon.

"No. But only because you'd get yourself killed if you went after him."

"I'm going after him either way. It would help if you told me who he loves. What his habits are. How skilled he is with a sword."

"Better than me."

The statement chilled me. I changed the subject.

"What are you doing out here? You've been off the radar for years, hiding out in that tavern of yours. -Yes, I know about your tavern," I added when he shot me a look.

He was silent. I guess he went with his gut and decided he'd trust me for the moment. "The militia killed my brother and took my nephew. I'm gonna get him back."

"Is he with Monroe?"

"No. Tom Neville."

That peaked my interest. "He's on my list." I grabbed my bag, hoisting it up on my shoulder. "Alright. I'm in."

"In? No, no, no. I don't believe I invited you."

I shrugged. "Too bad."

He couldn't hide a tiny smile, following as I jumped down, starting toward the ground. It was dark by the time we reached them. They had a roaring fire. The young girl jumped up when she saw me, her hand going to her dagger. But she looked as dangerous as a fawn, so I kept going. Matheson followed.

"She's okay."

"Hi." I waved. "You're Charlie. I know, because I've been following you for a while."

"Who is she?" the British woman asked.

"Her name is Syracuse. She's a Free Agent."

"A Free Agent?" The fat man gawked. "An actual Free Agent?"

Charlie looked between us. "What's a Free Agent?"

"It means I was trained by the militia to be a soldier. But I didn't fall for the brainwashing, and I went AWOL." I showed her my wrist. "I'm gonna help you get your brother back. Matheson invited me."

"I did not," he argued.

"Sh." I waved him away. Charlie smiled.

She addressed him. "What do you think? Is she okay?"

He deliberated a minute. "Yeah. She's okay." His eyes bored into mine, telling me silently that if I tried to hurt any of them, he would kill me. I nodded, accepting. "Alright then. That's Aaron, and Maggie." They nodded to me, a little standoffish.

"Is she an old friend of yours, or-?" Aaron seemed a little nervous. He didn't seem the brave type.

"No."

"Actually, we have met before," I contradicted. "You wouldn't remember. It was years ago."

The conversation ended there. The others ate, then settled in to bed. I spread out my bed roll, stretching out. When the others had been asleep a while, I was still staring up at the stars. Matheson asked softly, "You okay?"

"A little sore," I snapped playfully. He chuckled. "You think that's funny?"

"A little, yeah."

"You're a sadist. You're laughing at my pain."

This just made him chuckle again.


	2. Chapter 2

"We'll split up. Meet back here." Matheson pointed to a town on the map. "In two weeks. You-." He pointed to me. "You're coming with me."

"Because you think I'd be useful, or because you don't trust me with them?"

"Both," he said coldly. He was always this way. Calloused. "Let's move."

I grabbed my bag and followed him, not looking back as we hiked into the thick tree line. It was a few minutes before he started to talk.

"Alright. Spill it. Why do you want to kill Monroe? Where did all those scars come from? When did we meet, before? And who else is on this list of yours?"

I stepped over a fallen tree and wiped sweat from my brow. "I'll start with how I got the scars. The answer is glass. A lot of broken glass. I want to kill Monroe because he killed my best friend. Or, at least, his man did. Neville. The only other guy on my list is Strausser. Because he hurts people. I've seen how he hurts people, and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

We were silent a moment. Kept walking.

"Was I ever on that list?"

I huffed. "You were."

"Why'd you take me off?"

"When you left, I figured you finally saw what I did. That it wasn't all justified. That the lives they took weren't all bad."

"I don't know about that."

I wheeled around, turning on him. "What!?"

"Easy. We started out with laws and rules, just like the police, back in the day. Killed murderers and rapists. I don't know exactly where the line is drawn between justified and... unjustified, but I do know that Monroe never killed anybody without reason. I know I never gave an order for someone's death without the best of intentions. I'm not without guilt, though, so maybe you're right."

I couldn't think of an anything to say to that. Sometimes there had to be bad guys. Leaders who made tough decisions, and got hated for it. But they kept things running smoothly. And they just had to live with knowing what they did. Maybe Matheson wasn't cut out for that. But maybe he was a decent guy. Time would tell.

"You didn't answer my other question. You said we'd met before."

"I volunteered for the militia. I knew it was the only way I could get good enough to stand a chance against Monroe. He saw potential, and he put me in training to become an officer. They had me for six years. One day he personally came out to inspect us. You came with him..."

General Sebastian Monroe was a handsome man, I couldn't help but thinking. Light brown hair with a gentle curl, a strong stance as he surveyed the six of us. It was two years into my training. It was more intense than learning to use a sword, and to shoot. We learned military strategy, leadership and more. Anything a sergeant could ever need. And he'd kept me around, special. I didn't know why my training was so much more intense.

The other five were all men, all older than me. I was nineteen then. Monroe folded his arms behind his back and paced along the line we stood in.

"They look nice. They're in good shape. They're smart, they're driven, they're obedient. But there's one thing you can't teach, Michael."

Our main teacher, Commander Michael bowed his head. "And, what's that Sir?"

Monroe stopped in front of me. I could feel his breath on my skin. "Care to take a guess, Private?"

"Loyalty, Sir?"

"Correct. We have a problem, though. It's very hard to test loyalty. Do you want to prove your loyalty to your country, Private?"

"Yes Sir."

Monroe gave a smile that showed nothing. He was transparent. You could like right through him, to the other side, where you'd inevitably see Matheson, following obediently. And he was perhaps not quite so transparent. He worried, he wondered, he took things to heart. He was not a man that could let his mistakes go.

Monroe drew back and punched me in the jaw, knocking me to the ground. The other privates held rank, nobody moving. Matheson, alone, moved to help, but stopped. Pain rattled around in my skull. The world throbbed outside of my head.

Monroe grabbed me and dragged me up, then hit me again, in the eye. I held my footing, prepared, and didn't move to defend myself. He hit me with his left hand, then, and I fell to my knees. He balled his hands together and whacked me. I felt a cut open on my forehead from the force of it, and blood trickled out, matting my hair.

"What are you doing?" Matheson demanded.

He didn't answer, hitting me so hard I crumbled. My face ached. He kicked me in the stomach, and I felt something break. A rib. Again. He knelt, grabbed my hair, and pulled, lifting my bloodied face.

"Do you want me to stop?"

I sucked in a breath, wincing. "Not unless you've proved your point, Sir!"

"Loyalty." He waved a hand at me, where I was barely holding myself up. "As a matter of fact, Private, I have proved my point. But I'd like to know, right now, which of your fellow privates you think needs to have their loyalty tested. Pick a private, any private."

"Me, Sir."

"You? These are healthy men that can take a hit. Why you?"

"Better to minimize the damage, Sir. For the good of the militia."

"For the good of the militia," he recited.

He drew back and socked me so hard my vision went black. I realized I had fallen to the ground again. I felt the hard dirt past the throbbing. I spit blood. Monroe was going to kick me again when a stern voice called out, "That's enough!"

It was Matheson.

Monroe stopped, wiping blood off his knuckles. "If any of you were half as loyal as her, you'd have stood up for your fellow private. She saved you all a beating. Be sure to thank her later."

He walked away, boots kicking up dust. He didn't look back.

"I don't remember that," Matheson admitted as we walked.

"Well, you're getting old. Old men forget things."

I cracked a smile as he looked over at me.

"You know what? If I'm old, you got your ass kicked by an old man yesterday."

"I was off my game. The sun got in my eyes, and-."

"Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses."

I drew my sword. "I could take you now."

His expression leveled out. He was dead serious as his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. "I bet you couldn't."

In a second I spun my blade and cleaved down on him. He stopped it easily, then shoved it to the side and swiped across. I jumped back, charged in and met his sword again, then spun in and elbowed him in the stomach. He lost his breath in a whoosh and hunched over as I backed away.

"I'm sorry! I got carried away!" He was still low to the ground, dropping his sword. I moved closer. "Matheson, you alright?"

His eyes looked up and a hint of a smile crossed his lips. I realized I'd made a mistake. He snagged my leg and tripped me. I landed on my back in the soft grass. He pushed my legs apart and dropped to rest in between them, holding himself up.

"I'm fine. And knock it off with that 'Matheson' crap. Too conspicuous. Call me Miles."

His dog tags dangled over me, then he stooped and pressed his lips to mine. His hands drifted to my thighs. I lifted my hands and wound my fingers into his thick head of brown hair, tugging.

"Ew, uncle sex."

We froze as Charlie moved out of the thick wooded area around us, holding her hands up as if to say, 'I surrender.' Her eyes were squinched tightly shut.

"Separate, please. Don't want to see it, don't want to think about it. Miles, aren't you too old for this? I mean, really, it's icky. I'm scarred for life over here." It was obvious she was teasing us. She was smiling as she opened her eyes. I was trying not to laugh.

"Charlie, what the Hell are you doing?" Miles was still hovering over me. He pushed himself up and then offered me a hand.

"I want to come with you."

"No way."

"Oh, let her come," I said. "She won't be that big of a burden."

"Thanks."

He deliberated, rolled his eyes and groaned. "Fine. Keep up."

"I'm not sure I could keep up with you two," she mumbled.

We both retrieved our swords. I fell back by Charlie as we kept walking. It was silent for a while. As we split to go around a tree, I asked, "What's your brother's name?"

Her eyes were wary. Smart girl. "Danny."

"How old is he?"

"Seventeen."

"I hope we can get him back," I said honestly.

"Me too." She called to Miles, "So where does this friend of yours live?"

"Last I heard, she was somewhere in these parts. We'll make the nearest town by nightfall. Start searching tomorrow. With any luck, she'll hear about it, and she'll find us."

The nearest town was in sight as the sun started going down. It was built after the lights went out, so the architecture was faulty on the buildings. They were small huts, really.

"We'll keep going," Miles decided. "Staying in town is too dangerous, with the militia looking for us."

"You mean you."

"Yeah. Me." I didn't miss that he shot Charlie a look, and neither did she.

"Sorry."

He gave a nod. We trudged on, through the village. The town beyond was moderately sized, very abandoned. We strolled up to a cheap motel with slime gathered in the bottom of the mostly empty pool. The windows were mostly broken, one of the doors to the rooms was gone, and the roof was partially caved in.

"Looks cozy." Miles said.

He checked to see that Charlie's room was secure before gesturing for her to go inside. "Just remember, the walls are thin," she said. She seemed to be getting a kick out of teasing us.

I waited until the door closed and then grabbed Miles' hand, tugging him to the room two doors away. I flung the door open and pushed him inside. He fell back onto the bed. I moved to straddle his hips and kissed him deeply, plunging my tongue into his mouth. I pressed my hips down harshly against his, and pushed his jacket down, off his shoulders. I tossed it aside, then tugged at the sheathed sword hung at his hip. Miles did the same, dropping mine beside his. A part of me thought he was taking a precaution.

"Don't trust me?" I mumbled against his lips.

"Do you trust me?"

I shrugged. "Fair enough."

He grabbed my hips and pulled me down so my center ground against him through the pants.

"Mm." The sound escaped before I could stop it, and I bit my lip. Miles smirked, and I realized I'd lost the upper hand. He flipped us both over, so he was hanging over me. He fell to his knees. The position made my insides squirm.

He tugged my jeans down, removing my shoes and lifting my shirt. They were tossed carelessly away. His hands slid up the insides of my thighs and I quivered when he slid his fingers under the waste band of my underwear, slowly sliding them down. His brown eyes flicked up to my face. I could feel myself shaking. It suddenly felt unbearably hot in the room. Sweat broke out across my skin. It wasn't the tension in me, it wasn't the position we were in. It was his eyes. Feral and desperate and filled with lust.

Distantly I remembered the look in his eyes from back when he was a general. He'd been so angry, back then.

Miles wound each hand around my legs, to graze the sensitive areas behind my knees, and gave a sharp tug, dragging me forward to the edge of the bed. I let out a small yelp as he leaned down and spread my legs apart, pushing one finger in where I was already slick. His lips trailed across my pelvic bone, from one hip to the other, then up to my belly button. He plunged his tongue inside and gave a push of his finger. I lurched away a little from the sharp pang of pleasure, but Miles wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer, holding me to him.

He moved his finger in slow circles, then gave another push. This time I rode out the new sensation, smiling in ecstasy. I pushed my hands into his thick mane of hair, kneading them as he added a second finger. I smirked when I saw a touch of gray hair around the edges that I hadn't noticed before.

Then he spread my legs even further apart, pulling his fingers out of me. He buried his face in my heat, and I cried out sharply. My head spun. His lips; his tongue. I started to gasp. His hands on my hips slid up my sides, fingertips running through a few beads of sweat and spreading the wetness. It cooled my skin and caught a faint draft, chilling me.

His lips pressed flat to the inside of my thigh, removed from where my muscles were starting to contract; prolonging the torture. He waited, breathing harshly. Each breath kissed the moisture on my skin, spread on my thighs.

"Miles," I whispered. "Please..."

The corner of his mouth flicked up in a smirk. That was what he wanted. He wanted me to plead. He whispered in a seductive rasp, "Lay back." It was a command. I obeyed, spreading my arms across the bed and shutting my eyes.

He returned his two fingers to pushing in and stroking my walls, where a bundle of nerve endings jumped to life, throwing sensation in all directions. His thumb pressed to my clit and his skilled lips and tongue were assaulting me again, until stars exploded behind my eyes, and I whimpered as I arched my back off the bed.

His eyes were still dark and needy as I sat up and he stood, falling forward over me. Our lips met and I could taste a hint of saltiness on his lips. We were in a frenzy again a second later and I fumbled to unbutton his pants, hands still shaking.

A timid knock sounded at the door.

Miles groaned in disbelief. "Dammit Charlie!"

Charlie's muffled call came from two rooms away. "What?"

We exchanged a glance. Not Charlie.

Author's note: Please review? Please? Oh, and I'm not gonna do a sex scene every chapter. Well... maybe. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

For a second, neither of us moved. Miles snapped to quicker than I did, grabbing his sword and going towards the door. I pulled my panties on and my shirt, fumbling to dress as he opened the door a crack.

"You're looking for Nora?"

Miles dropped his aggressive stance and sighed. His face was suddenly annoyed. "Hello, Mia."

Her voice was like a knife as she snarled, "_Are..._ you looking for my sister?"

"Yes," he sighed. Then he brought his hands up jokingly. "Not the face."

"You gonna let me in, or not?"

He hesitated. The woman shoved her way in, seemingly expecting to find someone like me in the room. I was pulling on my shoes, and she smirked when she saw me.

"Hi, you must be the flavor of the week."

I nodded, flashing a big smile. "Hi. Syracuse."

I held out my hand, but she didn't shake it. "Mia. I'm Nora's sister. She got herself taken by Militia."

Miles rolled his eyes, but his face didn't betray any emotion. "Is she in Philly?"

Mia was a short, thick woman. Her face was round, without much dimension and her lips stayed tightly pursed, like she smelled something funny. Her eyes shot unwavering beams of hatred at Miles.

"No. She's with a bunch of captives, towing a tank in that direction. They're only a few miles north of here. That's all I know."

"How do you know?"

"A little birdie told me." She raised a single finger, pointing it right at him. "Save my sister. And then whatever you want with her, forget it, because I don't trust you around her."

"You trust me to save her life, but you don't trust me to be near her?"

I cut in, seeing her grow scarlet with anger. "Are you going to stay and help us get her back?"

"No. I have to get back to work. I was lucky to stumble upon you."

"How dd you know we were looking for her?" Charlie's voice came from just outside the door. She had been listening, and she now stepped into the room.

Mia nodded to Miles without looking at him. "Why else would he be here, if not to torture my sister some more."

"Okay," he snapped, guiding her towards the door. "Thanks for the tip. Nice seeing you. Let's do this in another five years. Goodbye."

Mia looked back at me. "You're kind of pretty, in a weird way. You might last... a while, at least."

She walked out into the night. I sat back on the bed, pulling my hair back into a sloppy bun. The mattress was bare, with no blanket or sheets or pillows. But it would be the first time I'd slept in a bed for weeks.

"Are we going tonight, or will we wait until tomorrow?"

"Tonight."

Charlie went to grab her pack, and I lifted mine onto my shoulder. "Lead the way."

The office was buzzing. A copier lit up the cream colored wall by my head, getting my attention. I had been staring out the large wall, made of glass. New York city was beautiful at night. It was my favorite place in the world, the only thing that made my family bearable. My mother was working. I was waiting outside her office, for her to get through with a meeting, so we could finally go home. My father had dropped me off, not bothering to take me back to mother's house. My school bag was sitting close by. I kicked it.

_Stupid homework._

I made a big fuss, but the truth was I hadn't done homework all the time I'd been in school. I was ten. The lights went out in a wave, starting at one end of the room and continuing until no computer screen or copier was working. I looked up. A flash of excitement shot through me. Tiny little events like this kept me from killing myself. A little bit of alive in the dead that was my life.

Confused mumbling rumbled through the office. I was shut off in the corner. Nobody bothered talking to me, but I could hear as they gathered in the center of the room.

"The power's out all over the block."

"Why didn't the backup generator kick in?"

A scream split the air. The next second a massive shape slid across the reflecting glass in the next building. Their was an ear splitting crash and more screams as a jumbo jet crashed into the bottom half of the building. My heart lurched. I panicked, looking around for anyone to do something as the building shook. The whole thing started to tip.

My feet slid as the building continued to fall. Other people were sliding too, and screaming, but I was too petrified to scream. The wall became the floor as we all slid into it, then impact shook the building as the top of it struck the building next to it. There were sounds of glass shattering and the moonlight provided just enough light to see the people who worked at the office hitting the other panes of glass on the right side, smashing into them and falling out.

We were almost horizontal when the building stopped slipping. The grinding of metal on metal creaked one final time. The only panel that hadn't been smashed was the one I was laying on. Nobody had been anywhere near me, to hit it.

I was gasping for breath. My thoughts raced. The glass had held. I could find a way to climb down to the floor. Mother was probably dead. Where did my homework go?

A computer monitor that was still plugged into the wall suddenly came unplugged. It hit the glass beside me, shattering it. The fall wasn't so long, but it was onto piles and piles of broken glass. Burning pain hit my chest as my skin was torn to shreds in the front. Warm blood dripped out and coated my blouse.

There were no moans. Everybody else was dead. Maybe they'd been crushed by the desks and copy machines. Maybe the glass had punctured major organs. Maybe they'd been crushed in the collision of the buildings.

"Help," I croaked. It came out a hoarse whisper.

_Survive_, I ordered myself.

My arms ached. They'd hit the glass, but I moved them and tried to drag myself across the ground. I couldn't move, though.

Torches burned brightly on the trail, held by armed soldiers in Militia uniforms. There were several dozen slaves hooked up, working on towing a tank toward Monroe. Miles pointed Nora out to us as we crouched in the thick forest around them. She was beautiful, naturally. A Latin woman with a strong stance, though she crouched to encourage an exhausted man to get up. Her jaw was set, and her eyes burned as she glared at one of the militia members.

A woman I could admire from first glance; and not just for her beauty.

"How are we doing this?"

Half the guards were gathered in the back, by the tank, surveying a topographical map. Only four were still near the slaves. One was on horseback, with an automatic rifle hung on his back. I salivated at the sight of it. Big money. But Nora was what we came for, and I tried to focus.

Miles nodded to me. "You're gonna stay here. Get Nora out when I lead the guards away. We'll meet back at the motel."

And with that, he took off, sliding through the forest like wind, without making a sound. We waited, Charlie and I. Miles entered the clearing on the other side of the trail and whistled to get the attention of one man, cutting him down with a brutal stroke as he ran forward. Another two came, and he skillfully disarmed one, then spun his blade and buried it in the other's stomach. He pulled his sword out and grabbed the first, slicing open his throat.

Charlie turned away beside me.

"Men! With me!" the man on horseback called to the others, gathered by the tank.

Miles cut through the leather thongs that held the first two captives, pushing them toward the forest. "Go."

I didn't miss Nora's eye roll when she noticed him. He turned and ran after the two men he'd saved, and all but four of the Militia members followed, drawing swords. I pulled Charlie forward.

"Get Nora," I said to her, going to face the first remaining man. Three of them closed in on me at once. In the corner of my eye, I saw that Nora had already cut through her bindings, and met Charlie halfway. In the time it took them to reach me, I met the first swing by the lead man, slid out of the path of a second and sliced into him, slipping under the last swing.

One man fell.

The first man cleaved down on my. I met his sword with an upward thrust, holding it and moving our blades to catch the other man's swing. I pulled a knife from my belt and spun, dislodging both swords. I shoved my sword into the second man's stomach and stabbed the knife into the first's neck. Quick. Violent.

They both crumbled to the floor.

The last man held his position, watching over the captives. He started calling for the others as we sprinted into the woods.

Nora whispered, "Dammit, Miles!"

"We came to save you," Charlie said, not understanding.

"I didn't want to be saved! I was right where I needed to be!"

"Do you wanna go back?" I snapped. "That could be arranged!"

She led the way without answering. "So you're both with Miles? Why did he decide to come ruin my plans?"

We'd slowed to walking, coming out of the forest onto a broken and dark, paved road. I smiled at her. "We're going on a suicide mission that -lucky you-, you get to be a part of."

Charlie stopped us in our tracks. Her face was serious. "The militia took my brother. We're getting him back."

Nora sized her up. I could see it in her eyes. _Flavor of the week?_ "And why is he helping you? That doesn't seem like something Miles would do."

She held a hand out. "I'm Charlie. I'm his niece."

"Nora Clayton." They shook, then she turned to me. "You?"

I shrugged, but shook her hand. "I'm just along for the ride. Syracuse."

She cracked a smile. "Is that the name you were born with?"

"No. But I'm not the person I was born as, either." I wiped blood off the knife with a handkerchief and shoved it back into its sheath, tucked into the belt my sword hung from.

"Fair enough."

"He should have met up with us by now," I said, spinning to look around as we walked down the road. Dawn had come, and I was barely dragging myself along.

"Miles is fine," Nora assured me. "He probably just wants to make you sweat a little."

I tried to keep from smiling, thinking about the irony of the statement. Sex was right up there in my mind with sleep. I wasn't sure which I wanted more at the moment. Nora chuckled softly.

"What?"

"I saw that look," she said. "Plus, you did say you were... _along for the ride_."

To my surprise, I laughed. "Right. Your sister said I was a flavor of the week."

"A week... sometimes they last a month before he wares them out."

I felt color rise to my cheeks. I could imagine getting warn out. All used up. Ruined for other men, left to wander with no hope of anyone ever comparing to that again.

"Must be one hell of a week," I mumbled.

She smiled again. Charlie shook her head, moving ahead with a new spring in her step. Trying to get out of earshot. I snickered, and we kept going until we got to the small village again.

Miles was waiting for us outside the motel, cleaning his sword.

"What took so long?"

"We're normal human beings. Something is obviously wrong with you."

Nora faced him with a very unwelcoming smile. "Hello."

"Hi."

The air went chilly.

"You ruined all my plans."

"Plans? You mean when we rescued you?"

"When I didn't want to be rescued. The rifle. You saw it. I was going to steal it and sell it. And I'm not leaving to help with your little mission without it."

Miles looked at us. "They told you?"

"Yeah. And I'm sorry about your nephew, but I need to get that gun."

"We need sleep," Charlie said.

He thought a moment. Sighed. "Fine. We'll go tonight." He nodded to me. "Syracuse. Come on."

I clenched my fists, flushing with anger as Nora and Charlie both watched me carefully for a response. "I'm not some dog you can just call when you want me."

He was no-nonsense, stopping just outside the door. "Are you coming or not?"

"No."

"Suit yourself."

I watched him go inside, strip off his coat, and drop his sword by the bed. Charlie went to her room. Nora started toward the one in the middle, and stopped. She was fighting a knowing smile.

"You can go," she said, laughing.

I sighed and went in. Miles was laying on the bed, waiting. I felt such a mixture of anger and lust that shivers ran down my spine.

"Never mind," I started, turning back toward the door. "Not worth my self-respect."

Miles caught my hand and pulled me against him. I was facing away from him. His hands settled on my hips, squeezing tightly and pulling me against him, so his hips ground against the back of my jeans. I could feel his erection.

"Are you sure? I think I could make it worth your while..."


	4. Chapter 4

I shivered, shutting my eyes and leaning back. I was putty in his hands. They roamed up, to my sides, finding warm skin under my shirt. I knew then that I was powerless to resist him. He'd put some kind of spell on me, and I'd do anything he asked.

"Stay."

I nodded feebly, biting my lip and squeezing my thighs together.

"Good."

His hand found mine and he spun me around to face him, bringing his other hand up to the back of my neck and kissing me deeply. I trembled. My knees went weak.

I steeled myself and pushed Miles back. He sat on the edge of the bed. I straddled his hips, removing his shirt. His chest was thin, with a little muscle and some sparse hair. I ran my hands up his chest and kissed him, plunging my tongue into his mouth and all the while grinding my center down against him.

A moan escaped from deep in his chest; it was almost a growl, and I felt wetness spread, coating my thighs. Miles tugged the hair tie out of my hair, and I shook it out. He brushed it back so he could kiss my neck, from below my ear to my collar bone.

His hands found my breasts, under the shirt and bra. My nipples were hard. He rolled them between two fingers and massaged my swollen flesh with warm hands. I let my head drift back and my eyes shut, pushing my chest forward. My shirt and bra came off, getting dropped to the floor. His lips took the place of his hands, warm and moist against my skin. His teeth scraped me, careful not to be too rough, and a jolt of pleasure shot to my center.

"Uh," a soft whimper escaped.

He smirked.

I scowled.

It was suddenly a competition.

We both paused, exchanging a glare. He seemed to be daring me to take him on, and I accepted, tilting my head. I undid my jeans, pushing them down. Miles pulled me up and helped me out of them, then moved to undo his own. I hovered over him, naked. I let my moist center slide over the tip of his length, just grazing him, and gave a little push, then pulled away.

Miles swore under his breath. His hands found my hips, and he flipped me over, so he hung over top of me. He moved down my body, lips gentle, tongue leaving a wet trail around my belly button. I followed his lips and stopped for a moment when he started to kiss my scars, following each jagged mark while his hands stroked the insides of my thighs. The sight made me inexplicably sad. Those ugly little flaws that covered my chest and stretched to my stomach didn't seem to bother him at all, but would some other man see them that way? Miles had a few scars of his own, with all the fighting he did, so they were commonplace.

I traced my finger over one scar on his shoulder. Then his lips returned to mine, and I forgot about my sadness. His hands jerked my hips closer to him as he pushed into me.

I trembled at the sensation of finally having him inside me. He set a hand on my leg and bent it, holding it to his side and pushing forward as he moved. The position stretched me in a knew way, and I gasped. I was out of my league, and I was going to lose if I didn't take back the control. I pushed him over and turned so I was on top of him, all without breaking the connection we had.

Pushing him so he laid back, I started to move. Lifting my hips and pushing forward fluidly, I slid along the length of his erection, wincing at how tight the position made me. He filled me with a few thrusts before I started to lean back, changing the angle of entry. New nerve endings jumped to attention, and I was close to losing it.

Miles lifted his hips in time with my movements, leaning forward. He captured my face in his hands and kissed me deeply, which only added to my predicament. As I lifted myself he wrapped an arm around my back, setting a hand on my shoulder and pulling me back down with a quick tug. I almost lost it.

I wound my hands into his hair and pulled, kneading my fists the way I knew he liked. Miles growled again. He pulled me closer to him so my chest fell against his, my nipples were pressed tightly to him as he kept me close and increased the speed of his thrusting.

_So close._

I unraveled around him. My vision blackened from the intensity of the orgasm, and some minutes later when I was aware of my surroundings again, I remembered him turning us both and thrusting into me with wild abandon until I was all played out. Then he'd pulled out and let himself go, too.

I woke to a bright room. Natural light poured in from a window over the bed I was laying in, which I instantly recognized as not being mine. I jolted forward, and cried out at the pain in my chest. A young boy rushed into the room. A teenager, a few years older than me.

"Dad! She's awake!"

"Who are you?" I stammered, pulling the covers up. I wore pants, but no shirt. My chest was covered in fresh, white bandages.

"I'm James. My dad's a doctor. We pulled you out of the wreckage of a building."

He kept his distance, but smiled in a friendly way. My head felt woozy and my vision blurred. This time, when I sank into unconsciousness, a cocoon of safety enveloped me.

I woke with a start, in a bed that wasn't mine. I suppose, though, I'd made it mine for the night. It was the most mine a bed had ever felt. Miles was beside me, fully dressed and asleep. I was still naked, I realized suddenly, with only his coat draped over me. I'd fallen asleep immediately after... but Miles, no. He would never be caught so exposed. I noted that even in sleep, we'd kept our distance from each other. We were an entire bed apart.

Still, it was a first for me. Another first with Miles.

First kiss. First time. First time sleeping in the same bed with a man.

The day was still bright outside. I pulled some clothes on and left his coat on the bed, quietly slipping out. Charlie was sitting on the edge of the mostly empty pool, her feet dangling. She held a few postcards in her hands. I sat beside her.

"Cool pictures. New York, that was where I lived. The lights were the most beautiful sight in the world. That's almost reason enough to want the lights back on."

"Almost? Wouldn't you turn them back on, if you could?"

I shook my head. "No. I only remember bad things before the lights went off. People always running around to pay bills. Or inside, with their stupid games, wasting their lives. The whole world was at war with itself and we were becoming desensitized to violence and emotion. Forgetting how to feel."

"It seems like we're still all at war with each other," she said softly. "And Monroe's men must have forgotten how to feel, or else how could they kill people so casually?"

"I know what you mean. Free Agent, remember? Miles and I, and the militia, too... we tune out when we have to, but the morals are still there."

"So you haven't forgotten how to feel?" Her eyes skipped to me, then away, then back to me, like she didn't want to pry.

"I never learned in the first place. I'm just starting to."

She chuckled. "Right."

I frowned at her. "What?"

"Miles."

I snorted in the least lady-like way possible. "No. There are no feelings, it's purely sex."

"How does my uncle's sex life keep coming up in our conversations?" she laughed.

"You started it." I nudged her.

"I started talking about feelings. You brought up sex."

"That's because I'm not comfortable talking about feelings. Sex I _can_ talk about." I turned to her with a very serious expression. "Your uncle is a very generous lover-."

"Ug! Gross!" she laughed, kicking one leg up onto the edge of the pool and starting to run away.

I snagged her hand. "Wait, stay. Come on. Sit back down. No more talking about sex or feelings, okay?"

"Okay." She sat. After a moment she couldn't help but to smile, and drummed her hands on her thighs. "So are you totally in love with him, or-."

"No," I said again. "No, I'm not. No feelings. I came on this little adventure because the man who has your brother is an old acquaintance. I'm gonna kill him, then we'll probably part ways. Sorry."

Her voice turned soft, and oddly wise. "I understand. Out here life isn't like the village I lived in. It's a lot... harsher. You've gotta do what you've gotta do to stay alive."

"Which usually means being alone."

Again, we found ourselves in the forest as the helicopter was towed along a dirt trail by enslaved civilians. Charlie had a handmade gun strapped to her wrist. She was nearly hyperventilating as she stepped out into the clearing. The head man on horseback gave the order to stop.

"I'm... sorry, I just-."

"Stop right there. Who are you?"

"I was hunting." She inched closer.

In the dark of the forest, I slid my blade from its sheath, agonizingly slowly. Miles and Nora did the same. Charlie lifted her arm and fired. I saw something change in her. A beam of pride shot through me as I realized she'd turned it off. Then the pride faded when I remembered when I had turned it off. Charlie was in the defining stage where she found out who she was going to be for the rest of her life. She was losing her innocence. She was going to turn out like me. Was I wrong to want the lights to stay off? She could be normal. It wasn't too late for her.

The three of us rushed into the clearing as the man fell from his horse, and she dove for the rifle, pointing and firing as a militia man charged at her. The next who attacked her I got to; I met his swing, knocked his blade aside and sliced into his stomach. Another came. He chopped at me, I slid out of the path of his sword and spun, burying my blade into his chest with my back facing him.

I turned in time to see Miles snap one man's neck, and my blood temperature spiked. _What a rush._

I nodded to him, then ran to meet another man. Miles came closer, spinning his blade skillfully and licking his lips.

Another spike in the temperature of my blood.

"He's mine," I growled.

"We'll see."

The man aimed a swing at me. I stopped it with an upward thrust, then he dodged a swing from Miles and chopped at me again, wild and feral like a cornered animal. He was quick. Miles and I both deflected the blow, clashing with each other. We separated as the man stabbed for Miles, then simultaneously plunged our swords into him.

The others were dead. Nora ran to help Charlie up.

I glared at Miles. "I said he was mine."

"Look who never learned to share," he mumbled.

Nora called, "What is wrong with you? Both of you!"

I stopped, realizing we'd been fighting over who got to take a man's life. It was a little sickening, but it was what I was good at; what I enjoyed. Charlie was watching me with a horrified expression. She knew that there was no capacity for love in me, now. I was viscous, and I was out for myself.

"Let's just let these poor suckers go and get out of here."

We cut the slaves free. They scattered, most only stopping to thank Nora. She had the rifle slung over her shoulder and a vice grip on the strap that held it up. She looked down at a tiny nick she had on her side, with a sprinkling of blood. As people cleared out, she stripped off her helicopter top and set to work bandaging it as best she could.

I didn't pay much attention, going over to Charlie. She was staring at the dirt. "Hey. You did a good thing, today."

"Killing two people will never be a good thing. I won't ever be like you and Miles. Life means something to me." She stood and walked away, going to grab her bag in the bushes.

Miles rolled his eyes and strode over to Nora, rudely poking her in the back, over a flag tattoo. "You joined the rebels!? You?"

She turned, glaring, and pulled her shirt on. "Yeah, I did. They're good people. And we're just trying to make the world a better place, so I don't wanna hear it."

"You don't wanna hear what? That it's stupid? That it's dangerous?"

"Wait-," Charlie joined us. "Who are the rebels?"

"A bunch of... bleeding heart-."

"Patriots."

He glared and walked away, grabbing our bags. Nora said to me, "What about you?"

"Me?" I faltered. She wanted to know what I thought. "Not smart... but brave."

Miles tossed each of us a bag. "Let's go."

"I need to get this gun to my rebel base."

"We've lost too much time already."

Nora looked to Charlie. She debated visibly. "How long will it take?"

"A day at the most. We'll be on time to meet up with your friends."

"Alright."

The walk was long. We made the headquarters of her branch of rebels by dawn. When we knocked, armed guards sprang out around us, pointing a mixture of muskets and swords.

"Your names," the front man ordered.

"They're friends," Nora said, but he only pointed his sword directly at me.

"Syracuse," I said.

Miles commented, "I'm Stu Redman. And this is Frannie." He nodded to Charlie.

When the front man turned to address Nora, I whispered, "Kinda creepy."

"I know. I didn't think that through."

I grinned. "Do you ever?"

We were allowed in. Inside, the building was boarded up, not letting in any outside light. Candles were lit all around. Over half the people there were bruised and bloodied, laid out on cots while only two people tended to them one at a time.

"What happened here?"

"We were attacked. We barely survived. We're all but out of ammunition for the guns we have."

She smiled when she saw the man. He held his arms out, and she hugged him deeply. I noticed that Miles raised one eyebrow, and I smirked. He still had feelings for her. He had to, with the way they interacted. I made a note to ask her why they'd broken up, and went to where Charlie was helping change a teenager's bandages. "We have to get going."

"We could stay here a little longer," she protested. "They need help, and we need rest."

"You're right. I'll ask Miles."

His voice startled me. "Ask me what?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut out by a sudden snapping of gunfire. People dove to the floor around me and I fell as well. Miles dragged Charlie down before she could even react, and again I marveled at his speed. Wood splintered and tiny chunks of it flew into the air by my head. One bullet hit the table right next to me, and my cheek was scratched by the splinters.

Really, when the bullets start to fly, all you can do is ball up tightly and squeeze your eyes shut as tight as you can, imagining you're somewhere else.


	5. Chapter 5

The sky had darkened outside. The heavy quilt nailed up to cover the window fell back into place as I turned away. Outside, the militia troop had set up camp for the night. A few fires were burning, but every so often they would exchange fire with the Rebels' guy on the roof, who had the sniper rifle we worked so hard to get.

The boy Charlie had stitched up earlier was pulled to the front of the room, with a sheet draped over him. Several others of the wounded had died in the past few hours, so there were only about a dozen rebel members left. Nora was standing by her friend, the leader of this establishment, talking over a diagram of the building's layout.

I checked on Charlie. She was sleeping with her head tucked into her arm, resting on her backpack. I headed into one of the back rooms, which was even darker. Only a single candle was lit on a small table made from un-finished wood. There was a chair beside it, an American flag on one wall. I thought, maybe, that this was an interrogation room.

Miles was sitting against the wall, with a bottle of whiskey in one hand. He nodded to me.

I smiled. "Stu."

"Stella, wasn't it?"

"Indeed."

He held up one hand in a dramatic reference and murmured, "Stellaaa!" afterwords collapsing into tired giggles.

"Wow," I stated, nudging his boot. "You are wasted." I hated to admit that his smile made my stomach tighten in a funny way.

"Yes," he sighed, making a pouting face. He patted the floor beside him. "Come sit with me."

I slowly went to stand by him and slid down the wall, sitting. He offered the whiskey, and I took a drink. "Why are you drunk off your ass right now?" I asked.

Miles answered, and he was instantly sober. "The rebels won't hold. That tunnel they're digging won't work. The militia is gonna come in here... kill everybody that doesn't have the last name Matheson, and drag me and Charlie to Philly."

I paused a moment, suspecting he was worried about Nora. "They'll figure something out. Or you will. Or I will. We're a couple very sophisticated minds, you know."

He snorted. "I'll drink to that."

"Yeah. Let's kill some brain cells."

I took another swig, then passed the bottle back and inched closer, setting my head on his shoulder and sighing. "So let's brainstorm. We could fight-."

"We'd die."

"We could run-."

"We'd die."

"We could have sex."

He licked his lips, considering, and I shivered. We exchanged a glance, and I instantly pushed myself up, kicking a leg over to straddle him. I wouldn't ever get enough of that feeling, I knew. The feeling of anticipation and longing and a new feeling; a little thrill as I took control and pushed him down, so he laid flat below me. I pressed my center down against him and his hands slid to my thighs, sliding up to my hips through my pants. A shiver ran up my spine.

Miles pushed himself up and I leaned down. Our lips met. It was a soft kiss, but not tepid. The heat coming from his soft lips was enough to make me tremble, and he slid his mouth down my jaw to my neck, leaving a wet trail with his tongue. I could smell the whiskey on him, and I was beginning to feel a little warm and tingly inside from the drink I'd taken.

I was a lightweight when it came to emotions, whiskey, and Miles.

When I was distracted, his hands squeezed my hips, and he flipped us over so he hung over top of me. I wasn't sure who, but one of us bumped the table just past our feet, knocking over the candle that provided the only light of the room. I reached down and grabbed the wax stick and with a quick breath, extinguished the flame burning on top.

The room was plunged into darkness. For a moment, we both froze. There was a sound of heavy breathing. Gunshots from outside, but they didn't matter. In the dark, it was just the two of us. I could feel his presence, though he was no longer pressed against me. My body rang with anticipation and my center ached with desire.

I was startled by the feeling of Miles' fingertips grazing my stomach, skimming up past my belly button and lifting my shirt over my head. I jumped a little at the soft touch. His hands pressed flat to my sides, warm and gentle as they reached around to the small of my back. He laid me back down, then propped himself up so he hung over me. I could barely see the faintest outline of him as my eyes adjusted to the dark, but I somehow knew he licked his lips as he admired me. My insides squirmed.

His fingers drifted down to the button on my jeans, and he undid them, then frantically jerked them off, desire winning out over patience. He pulled away.

In the dark, my senses were heightened. I took deep breaths, breathing in the smells of whiskey, wax from the candle, scented something like apple pie, and the scent of my own arousal. I could feel every pulse of a gunshot in the air tingling against my skin, and a single bead of sweat rolling down one of my thighs. I could hear him undoing the belt that held his sword, then his pants, and I waited.

_Touch me, _I pleaded silently. _Just touch me._

Still, I waited, writhing in the dark, hungry for the feel of his thick length inside me. I turned a little to the side, stifling a whimper.

"Miles," I whispered.

"Syracuse..." He lingered on my name, voice warm and heady. "What is it? Tell me what you want." His hands slid up the insides of my thighs, but stopped short.

"Gah-," I broke off, sucking in a lung full of air. "Touch me. God, I need you to touch me. Please."

His hands squeezed my hips again and he lifted them, then thrust into me. The feeling was so glorious that I bit down on my palm to keep from screaming in pleasure. Miles fell to my level, hanging over me, and kissed me passionately, plunging his tongue into my mouth. I gave as good as I got, and wrapped my legs around his waist as he started slow, controlled movements.

I moved against him, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts and moaning each time we came together. In the dark, I felt uninhibited; wild, even. Senses heightened, body on edge, and the glorious feeling of him moving inside me.

Miles pushed one arm under me suddenly, and rocked back onto his knees, lifting me up onto him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, starting to slide along his erection with slow movements. There was a long string of gunfire outside. I rode him hard, feeling him reach new places deep within me that came alive and started on fire.

I knew nobody else could do this to me... whatever we had was once in a lifetime. How could anybody else ever read my body the way he did, even in pitch black darkness? How could any two people ever fit together so well? Just sex before had been one thing, but this... this was something else. It was an awakening for me; a discovery of new heights of pleasure.

My movements became desperate. I was close. I began to slow, and Miles moved his hands from guiding my movements on my hips. He wrapped his arms around me, reaching up to my shoulders to drag me down against him, and that was when my center tightened around him, and I ran my fingers up into his thick head of hair, tugging sharply as I unraveled. Unraveling was the best way to describe it; my muscles gave out in waves and waves of ecstasy. Miles pulled out of me and gently moved me aside, keeping one arm around me. My chest was still pressed against him, our legs were still tangled.

I reached down, mind still in a haze of lust, and tentatively touched his length with trembling fingertips. He closed his hand around mine, and together we stroked him with a few movements, until he released my hand and let out a low hiss.

I sagged against him, and he set his forehead against mine. We were both panting, still intertwined. For a while, he just held me. It was me who finally broke the embrace, when I realized something was off.

"The firing stopped," I said.

We exchanged a glance and fumbled to find our clothes in the dark. When we were dressed, we ran out into the main room. I shook Charlie to wake her as the door was broken down. Miles strode to join the few remaining rebels and cut down one man with a quick slash of his blade. I ran to join them and met a man's swing as he cut down on me. Our blades met, and I swung them in a circle, then pulled back and stabbed into his chest, slicing through like butter. I ducked when another guy chopped at me, slicing across his stomach.

Miles disarmed one man, the leader of the unit and dragged him forward, placing his sword at the captain's throat.

The rebels forced the door closed and barricaded it again, though it wouldn't hold long. Our time was running out, but I had a feeling Miles had a plan.

The leader of the rebels whom Nora may or may not have been involved with barked, "Fall back!"

The remaining rebels helped carry the wounded back into the interrogation room. Miles dragged the captain in and threw him into a chair, where the rebels tied him up. We pushed the table up against the wall, and everybody fell into silence. Candles were glowing and somebody had a lantern, so I could see the room in sheer contrast to earlier.

"Jeremy," Miles said, nodding to the captain.

"What are you doing, Miles?" The man tied to the chair seemed amused by the struggle the rebels were having as the militia beat against the door.

"We're gonna use you to get out of here."

Jeremy shook his head. "That won't work. The rules of engagement have changed since you left."

"You're a bad liar."

"I'm a bad liar? Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm lying."

They stared each other down for a minute, then Miles turned and I heard him swear under his breath. Charlie looked between them.

"Wait, wait. How do you know him?"

"You don't know?" Jeremy smiled smugly, and leaned back, saying, "This is Miles Matheson. Commanding general of the Monroe Militia. Damn founding father of the Republic, second only to Sebastian Monroe himself. He taught me everything I know."

There was silence in the room. The leader of the rebels turned to Nora and barked, "You brought _Miles Matheson_ in here!?"

She held up her hands for calm. "He's not dangerous."

"I oughta slit your throat!" he hissed at Miles.

"Padre, I thought you were all about forgiveness."

"Christ forgives. I'm not Christ."

Jeremy mumbled, "This is so dramatic. You guys remember _'One Life To Live'?_"

"Shut up. Look... hate me. Do what you've gotta do. But we've got bigger fish. We trade him in-," he nodded to Jeremy. "And we get out of here."

"It won't work. Monroe is done negotiating with traitors. I've made peace with my lord. My men are gonna come in here and tear you into strips-."

Miles punched him so hard I could hear his head snap to the side, and I winced.

Charlie was furious. I could see it in her eyes. She looked between Nora and I. "You knew about this?"

"Yes."

"Yeah." I said, "It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter!?" She addressed Miles, who hung his head. "You were general of the militia? General Monroe, you know him?"

"I am not talking about this right now."

"Well I'm sorry, but I think I deserve an explanation."

"Really? Do you? Okay. Yeah. I know him. Very well."

"You were in charge of the whole militia?"

"Been a few years. But yeah."

She was near tears. "You killed people's fathers, and dragged away their brothers."

"Yes, Charlie!" he yelled, whirling around to face her. "I killed fathers and sons and husbands! Is that what you wanna know? You happy?"

Her voice was deathly quiet. Everybody else in the room was quiet as she said, "Do not... talk to me like that. I am just trying to understand."

"Well... now you know. Now you know why the militia can't be stopped. Because they're mine. I trained them. And they are brutal... and smart... and vicious. Because of me. Your dad was right. When you see 'em coming, you don't fight. You run."

There was more banging on the door. The rusted hinges broke at the top and some of the rebels fell back to the back wall. I moved forward, with my sword in hand. "What are we gonna do?"

Miles sheathed his sword. "I'm gonna give myself up."

Author's note: I might be getting carried away with the lemons. More story next chapter, I promise. Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

We left that shattered remnants of the rebel group behind, starting out a few minutes after the militia took Miles away. It was just Nora, Charlie and I, but it wasn't a very trying rescue mission. I wasn't worried about us, and I wasn't worried about him. We just had to take out several dozen soldiers between the three of us. Simple as that. We took a shortcut through the woods and cut them off, then set up in a clearing where Nora emptied the contents of her smaller bag, and set to work mixing chemicals in a section of pipe.

I went over to where Charlie was sitting, staring at the ground.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

I sat next to her. "You saw a kid die and found out your uncle started the organization that killed your father." She was silent. "You know, the militia killed the only family I ever had, too. And they gave me this..." I rolled up my right sleeve.

Charlie's eyes locked on the scar. The 'M' that was disfigured from me trying to cut it away so many times.

"You forgave him," she observed hesitantly.

"Hey!" Nora called, waving for us to follow and holding a bomb in a little lead pipe.

Before we moved to follow, I said, "People change, and he's a decent guy now, right?" She nodded, then I clapped a hand on her shoulder as we jogged after Nora.

We waited, crouched low in the brush on the side of the road at one end of the bridge. Nora's eyes were burning with intensity as she slid her sword out of its sheath, counting down in her mind. I could tell she still had feelings for Miles. It didn't bother me, in fact it made more sense for them to be together than for us. He was strong, and she was strong. What was I? I didn't really know. She was beautiful, and he was... well, I guess I thought he was beautiful, too. I caught myself thinking about him without meaning to and I still didn't believe it when I made him smile, because I felt like that smile was just for me. And that was impossible. Other people smiled for everyone else, trying to be something or look a certain way, but Miles wasn't so easy. And sometimes he did smile just for me, and it always made me smile, too.

The bomb went off in a shower of dust and a violent wave of sound. One of the wagons of the militia overturned. Another bomb went off, shattering the foundation of the bridge on the back and cutting off the rest of the caravan. Chunks of concrete tumbled down into the river below. Nora, Charlie and I all ran forward. I cut down one man with a swift slash and ducked under another's swing, then stabbed backward into someone's stomach and retracted my blade in time to catch another sword cutting down on me.

I spun, dislodging his blade. Another soldier tried to hack down on me. I caught his arm with one hand, but wasn't strong enough to stop it, just shoving it aside. I sliced into the side of his neck.

Miles was sitting in the middle of one wagon, looking not the least bit surprised at the explosions. He stood and knocked one man away, then grabbed another and jerked swiftly, breaking his neck. With steady steps, he jumped down off the wagon and drew a knife from a body laying on the ground, cutting the ropes that bound his hands.

I cut down another man with a skilled flourish of my blade, and then turned as we ran back into the woods.

"What took you so long?" he asked, giving a half-smile.

Nora rolled her eyes as we jogged away, disappearing in the thick grove of trees as the militia scrambled to help the wounded. It had been a few long, sleepless nights. We slowed to a walk when we reached the road. It was a few more long miles to go before we reached a small town. All that time, we walked in silence. When I passed by a car with the hood hollowed out and turned into a small flower garden, I reached over and picked a flower. A tiger lily.

"Are we staying here?"

"No. Too far to go and we're too close to the militia."

I shifted my bag on my shoulder, then wiped some sweat off my brow. "Great. More walking. Or marching, I should say. Death marching." We kept going and reached the other edge of the small town, starting into the forest again. "Hey look. Venomous snake. No big deal. Water break? No time for water breaks. Drink your sweat. Or spit. Whatever the expression is."

"Complain some more," he said.

"Slave driver."

When we finally stopped for the night, my back and shoulders were sore from the weight of my bag. My legs were aching and my eyes would barely stay open. We started a campfire and spread out around it. I drifted off to sleep staring at the stars overhead, and a waning moon.

I woke not long after. The fire had burned down to only embers, and I licked my lips, sitting up. Miles was quietly sharpening his sword across the fire. I licked my lips again.

"Don't you ever sleep?"

"Kicked the habit years ago," he breezed, sheathing his sword. He stood. Started into the woods, then stopped. "Coming?"

I grinned and pushed myself up. Miles started to undo the belt that held his sword, but I waggled a finger. "No, no. Leave it on."

I slipped into the darkness around the camp sight, where only the stars and moon cast any light on the forest floor. But I turned back and Miles wasn't behind me. I smiled.

"Are we playing a game, now? What, you're the cat and I'm the mouse?" I listened carefully, tip-toeing through the dark and spinning. But I heard nothing and saw nothing. He was invisible in the night. A slight wind carried through the leaves, and a few crickets chirped.

A hand snagged my arm and dragged me back. I let out a small yelp that turned into a laugh when another hand grabbed my hip. Miles pulled me back against him, leaning forward and whispering in my ear. "No... but if we were, I'd win."

"Jerk."

"So if you're the mouse... and I'm the cat... and cats eat mice..."

I couldn't help but to giggle. But I broke his hold on me, spun and pushed him back. "Me first." I pinned him up against a tree and kissed him passionately, my hands working to undo his pants. I fumbled a little, my hands shaking with excitement, then started to slide down his body.

Miles caught my arms, a hesitant look on his face. "Syracuse-."

"Sh," I shushed him. "I want to try something."

I got down on my knees.

The position thrilled me in a way I'd never been thrilled before. I felt myself get slick as I shifted, undoing his pants. His length sprang free, and I tentatively wrapped my hands around him. I bit my lip, stroking softly.

I looked up shyly to make sure I hadn't done anything wrong yet. Miles shut his eyes, letting his head fall back. I guessed I was doing okay. Pushing my hands down to the base of his erection, I leaned forward and -with absolutely no grace about it- took him into my mouth. He groaned, and the sound made my insides tighten. I began to twist my hands around the base of his shaft while sliding my lips over him. When I reached the tip, I placed a slow lick along the slit there.

Miles cursed under his breath, and I grinned. I was doing _very _good. I tightened my hands a little, but tentatively. I wasn't sure how tight was too tight, or not tight enough. I was unsure about everything, but I kept moving my mouth over him, and sucked a little harder, drawing him deeper into my mouth. My gag reflex acted up, and I was afraid for a second that I would cough, but I took a deep breath and relaxed my throat, taking him even deeper.

His hand settled on the back of my head, easing me along a little faster. I whimpered and then moaned, so my throat vibrated around him. Then I let my teeth barely scrape along his length. He groaned again, and it went straight to my wet center. I whimpered again and stopped when he hit the back of my throat. I had taken the entire length of his erection into me. I swallowed so my muscles would tighten around him. (Read it in a romance novel. Thank God for romance novels.)

"Syracuse-," he started to say again. "You can stop."

I pulled back and shook my head. "No." Then I took him into my mouth again, as far as I could, and swallowed again. He let out a hiss of breath and released. I continued to draw on him until he'd spilled every drop, and swallowed, then sat back on my heels.

I blinked, smiling shyly. "Was that... okay?"

He sighed. Tucked himself back into his pants. "I'm not complaining."

I beamed with pride. "I'm awesome. Is there anything I _can't _do?"

He smiled, too. "Alright."

"No, really. I'm like a goddess. You should be on your knees, bowing before me."

Miles gave a seductive smirk. "Oh, really? Should I be on my knees?"

"That's not what I meant." I started back toward the camp.

"Hey," he said. I turned back. He shrugged, giving me a look and nodding for me to come back.

"Don't worry about it. We're even now."

"Who's keeping score?"

"I am. Four-to-four."

I went back into the camp and laid down, but stared up at the sky for a while before drifting off.

As we were walking along a stretch of road that hugged close to the woods, Charlie asked suddenly, "What stories did that guy know about you?"

She was talking about the militia soldier who ran a way-station about a mile back. We'd gotten information out of him with a little intimidation.

He didn't bother looking back at her, just kept walking. "I'm not discussing this."

"You said it yourself, we're a day away from catching up with Danny, and I don't know who I'm walking with or what I'm walking into, so I think I deserve to-."

"Charlie shut up!" he yelled, whirling around to face her. She stepped back. "It is none of your business. You want to get Danny back? Drop it. Or I swear, I'm gone."

She was silent. He turned and started walking again. I exchanged a glance with Nora, who just shrugged. She was apparently used to it. I set a hand on Charlie's shoulder, but she shrugged me away and hurried after him.

We walked on. About an hour later, we finally came to the town where we were to meet Aaron and Maggie. Maggie rushed forward to hug Charlie. She slowly hugged back.

"I was worried."

"We got in a few tight scrapes, but we're fine." She nodded to Nora. "That's Nora. We can maybe catch up to Danny by tomorrow."

"Really?"

"These are the people who're going up against Monroe? Unbelievable."

Aaron said, "We're right here."

"This was very touching, but get your crap and let's go."

"Now?"

"Yes."

Miles started walking again. We rushed to follow. I fell into step alongside Maggie, where we were distanced from the others. The sun was going down over the tree tops as we went, and she set a hand on my shoulder to make me drop back even farther.

"Good. I've thought about it, and I want to talk to you."

"Okay," I said hesitantly.

"I'm Maggie, in case you don't remember."

"Syracuse."

We shook hands.

"So, Syracuse... I'm your new doctor. The conversation we're about to have is going to be very awkward, especially for you, but it's imperative that you talk about this with someone, and I'm clearly the best option."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I nodded. "I appreciate the honesty, and I'll take whatever help I can get."

"Okay. You and Miles-."

"Oh God," I said, bringing a hand up to press against my forehead.

"Something wrong?"

"No... You're right. This is important. Please, go on."

"You've been having sex. Right?"

I nodded.

"For how long?"

"I think... five days."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It probably ended like a week ago."

She nodded. "Okay. That's good. There's a window where pregnancy is least likely to occur, and it seems you fit right in. Were you sexually active prior to this?"

I admitted sheepishly, "No."

She nodded and said nothing for a moment. Then, "I'm sure you don't want to be getting pregnant at this stage in life."

"No. I don't. I'm so stupid. I didn't even think of the consequences-."

"That's enough," she stopped me. "You're young. You're new to this. I will say that Miles has no excuse, though. Now. You can't just walk into a clinic and get on the pill these days, and condoms aren't readily available. People do experiment with types of animal intestines these days, but-."

"-Ew."

She laughed lightly. "Exactly. Ew."

"I mean, it's disgusting but fascinating."

"Yes. The 'withdrawal method' -to put it politely- is approximately seventy-five to eighty percent effective. But that's not good enough, when your life could be on the line. There are herbs that are unreliable, and won't help at all with preventing the spread of sexually transmitted diseases-."

I let out a sigh. Maggie stopped speaking. "I've been... really stupid."

"Beating yourself up isn't going to help any. The only one-hundred percent effective method of birth control is abstinence. That may sound unreasonable," she added with a slight smile, "But you really need to consider this. And you should do the mature thing and talk to Miles. Sex is..." When I cringed, she stopped walking, looking at me seriously. "Did anybody ever talk to you about sex?"

"I was in the militia. They taught us what the parts were and how they fit together. Other than that, no."

"Well, then I'm going to tell you the same thing I'll tell Charlie someday, when she's ready. Sex is not just fun. It's an enormous responsibility. You're taking your health and the health of any sexual partners you have into your hands. More than any of the physical ramifications... having sex triggers an emotional response. Things happen in your body and in your mind that you can't understand. The affects are profound and they can have serious psychological impact if you aren't careful."

"I understand."

"Good. Do you have any questions?"

I bit my lip for a second, then cracked a smile. "That myth about shoe size... that's not true?"

"No," she laughed.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me."

"You're lucky. When I was young, all we got was: 'When a man loves a woman...'."

"-Or when they're bored."

"Yes. Sometimes then, too."


	7. Chapter 7

We hit an abandoned town later in the day. When we were walking through an old sewage plant, where tangled pipes came out of the ground and overgrown plants had consumed the building, Miles split off from the rest of us. We kept walking, but I turned and watched him disappear behind a small corner of a separate building.

Only seconds later we heard the commotion, and Miles and a young man came rolling down the stone steps leading to the road, each struggling for control. A punch was thrown, but I lost track as the rest of them ran in front of me, rushing to break up the fight. I let them go, following at a jog.

The boy -or young man, really- seemed familiar as Miles shoved him against the wall. Charlie caught his arm before any more damage could be done, and she shoved the boy away.

Nora and Aaron each grabbed one of Miles' arms, holding him back as he called, "How long have you been following us?"

"A while. You just notice? You must be getting old!" the boy called.

And then I placed him. Seeing him training on base, in the militia. Just a teenager when he started out. His face rounder and softer, his eyes not as aware. And I remembered who his father was. What to do? Kill him? No. I'd be no better than Neville. I could certainly find a way to use him, though. I caught him looking at me for only a second before he turned his gaze away.

Miles called, exasperated, "He's a spy, Charlie! He's Militia!"

"What the Hell do you care!? You're leaving!"

He was silent. I looked over, only a tiny bit shocked. Surely, I wasn't expecting him to stick around for me, but I thought he was gonna stick with Charlie.

Maggie moved forward and produced a pair of plastic cuffs. "We'll bring him with us."

Neville's son held out his hands. "Fine with me. I'll just be able to keep a closer eye on you." I caught him watching me again. Maybe he placed me, or maybe he was just nervous because I was staring at him.

"Let me help you out there, kid," I snapped. I rolled my sleeve up. "Yes, you know me." I showed the spot where my brand had been. That I'd cut through and scarred even more, to get rid of.

"Thanks. Been trying to place you for a week, now."

"You're welcome." I was courteous. I didn't know if Miles would recognize the boy or not, but for the moment I'd keep quiet.

Miles started back up the steps. Charlie started to follow. "Where are you going?"

There was a hint of desperation in her voice, than almost seemed to say, _Don't leave yet._

"Oh, I'm going to get my sword. If that's okay."

She scowled at him. She fell into step beside me as we started walking again. Neville's son was at the front of the group. Miles and Maggie brought up the back. As we went, the silence told me that clearly, Charlie had something to say.

"Whatever it is, you can say it," I said gently.

"Well, _he's_ leaving." Her voice held misdirected anger that I'd had plenty of at her age, so I let it slide. "Are you gonna go with him?"

I blinked. "It hadn't crossed my mind."

"She probably will," Neville's son volunteered, a smugness to his voice that somehow came through in his walk.

"Shut up," I snapped. "Don't presume to know me just because you've been watching for a few days."

"So? Are you going or staying? Because you don't owe us anything, but the four of us might not be able to get my brother back on our own."

"After... lots of careful thought and consideration in the past few seconds... consisting mostly of the fact that I kill lots of people on a daily basis but don't necessarily want your deaths on my hands, but at the same time don't really want my own death on my hands -or yours- and considering that I'm here for revenge and that isn't your goal, and that this was pretty much impossible to begin with, even when you had me and Miles, not to mention that-."

"You're stalling," she said.

_Blunt._ I liked Charlie. She was a smart girl, who made her mistakes like all young people did, but learned from them. "I really respect you, you know? You're strong, and nobody had to teach you how to be that way." I gave a little huff of a laugh. "And you're not cold the way that we are. Don't lose that."

"I get it." She looked down. Another person leaving. I knew that feeling. I stopped letting people leave a long time ago, by not loving anymore.

"No you don't." I shook my head, smiling. "I mean that when we get to Philadelphia, I'll do the killing. You can just stick to rescuing."

She couldn't hide a smile.

The night was dark. The only light was coming from the torches we'd stopped to make, which threw orange light on the cement ground of the street we were walking.

A growl came from in front and we all froze. Miles tossed his torch to the ground. It skittered, throwing light onto three dogs feeding on the corpse of a deer. One snarled, its lip curling over red teeth.

"Run."

We all turned and bolted back the way we'd come. Barking came from behind, almost drowned out by the sound of our feet hitting the cement and my blood pounding in my ears. I was gasping as we hit the fence. I'd gotten there first, and as I jumped up and grabbed the top bar, finding a foot hold, I stopped and turned, offering Charlie my hand. She grabbed it and I yanked her up. Helping Maggie up next, my mind was spinning.

_What the Hell? They're coming. Get over the fence, you idiot!_

But I kept one arm hooked over the other side. Jason's hands were still bound, so he was struggling to pull himself up. One foot slipped and he nearly lost his grip, but I grabbed his arm, letting him grab on again. Miles and Nora were both over. Only Aaron chucked his bag over and grabbed on. Then he let out a cry as one of the dogs reached the fence and bit into his calf, dragging him back down.

"Aaron!"

The dog whined before I could jump down, falling away. Aaron scrambled over with my help and fell hard with a thud, gasping for breath. Looking back as I finally swung one leg over, I saw that Maggie had grabbed Charlie's crossbow.

I dropped down, landing in a crouch. We helped Aaron limp along until again, there was barking coming from behind us. We were at the cross roads of a town, with a mini-mall in the distance.

"The diner," Miles said, catching his breath as he helped Aaron.

We ran. Just as we slipped inside the building, Charlie turned back out the door, looking frantically. "Where's Maggie?"

I dragged her in and shut the door as two dogs hit the glass, snapping and barking. Their ears perked up and they were suddenly still, then they turned and dashed away.

"We have to go find Maggie!" she called.

"Stay here," I instructed.

Miles drew his sword and followed me out. I led the way quickly and silently in the direction the dogs had gone, stopping for a second when a yell came from that direction. We ran, loping a short distance into the trees before finding Maggie gripping a bloody wound in her thigh. I scanned the area, drawing my sword as Miles sheathed his, then knelt and picked her up.

He staggered ahead and I kept a wary eye, saying, "It's alright, Maggie, You're gonna be fine."

We made it back without incident. Maggie was gasping for each breath, a natural kind of fear in her eyes like she knew.

_She's a doctor, _I thought. _Of course she knows how bad it is. Looks like he cut the femoral artery._

Miles laid Maggie down where she could be propped up against the counter, and she instantly addressed her leg, which was pouring blood.

"Why did he do that?" Charlie asked, pacing and nervously brushing hair back behind her ears when there wasn't any to brush back. Then she took to stroking it, and breathing fast like she couldn't stop herself.

"He said I killed his dog. Listen to me. The femoral artery is severed-."

I looked away. The odds weren't good.

"-I'm losing blood very fast, I need someone to help stitch the artery before I bleed out."

Aaron stuttered, "M-Maggie, no. You're talking about surgery!"

"I'll talk you through it. My bag, over there-."

Miles said to Nora, "Come on. We'll look for another way out. Jump across a few buildings if we have to."

He and Nora went through the kitchen. I looked after them, but in the end, settled beside Aaron as he sifted through Maggie's bag for forceps. Charlie was still pacing. 'Nate' was tied up to the bar across the room, watching with what was probably sympathy.

My hands shook as I dumped some of Miles' whiskey onto the tools to sterilize them, and I said, faking confidence, "I'm not a doctor, but I have some training from the militia in emergency aid and even some experience with botched attempts at surgery."

Aaron squinted, not sure if I was lying. "Really? That doesn't sound like regular training."

"Yeah. I was in a special group of cadets, training to be officers. General Monroe selected me personally above the others."

I fumbled with my belt, removing my sword to make a tourniquet above the wound on Maggie's thigh.

"And this experience?" she asked, her accent thick and charming. "How did those surgeries go?"

"Well... they were both on the same person. Friend of mine. He was still alive, last I saw him, two years ago."

"That's reassuring."

"Yeah." I grabbed the forceps and told her to brace herself. It was oddly surreal, sifting through the blood gushing from her leg to find the artery, with only the faintest memory of what they were supposed to look like. Aaron held her hand.

I had just secured it when a scream came from behind us. I turned just in time to see Charlie's feet disappearing over the counter, and to see Neville's kid yelling, "Charlie!"

I stole a glance back at Maggie, but I was already standing.

"Go!" she yelled.

Nate was struggling at his bindings. "Cut me loose, I'll help you!"

"Not for your father's life would I cut you loose." I grabbed my sword and sprinted after the muffled screams, jumping over the counter probably a little over-zealously. I reminded myself that I wasn't Rambo, and ran, turning a corner to a door that led to stairs, heading down into a basement. At the first step I felt a small tug of a trip wire that I'd charged right through, too worried about what horrific things could be happening to the girl. There was only time for a single thought before the explosion knocked me down the stairs and blackness hit like a truck.

_You're better than that. Idiot. And now you're dead._


	8. Chapter 8

The truck that hit me what felt like months ago had parked on top of my head. None-too-gentle hands were shaking me at the shoulders and only making the pounding worse. Sounds were muted like I was underwater. Why I hated explosions.

"Hey." I could only make out the words because my eyes were open, and I was reading them on a pair of impatiently hard lips. "Wake up. Let's go."

I blinked but the fogginess in my head remained. It took a second for me to place the face, and when I did I squeezed my hand to ensure that my sword was still in it. In a second I kicked Neville's kids' knee to make him fall and slid away, then settled over him with one of my knees pressed to his chest. I plunged my sword down so the tip stopped right at his throat.

He didn't fight back at all. In his eyes it seemed he knew I wasn't going to kill him.

I looked around, remembering slowly what had happened. We were alone, at the bottom of stairs disturbed by chunks of rock and wood scattered from the explosion.

_We're alone,_ I realized suddenly. _I could kill him. Take __revenge on the son of a bitch who gave the order to kill them all._

"Charlie?" I asked first.

"Safe," he murmured. "I'm not gonna hurt you-."

"-Do I look like I'm worried about you hurting me?" I snarled, a decade's worth of anger rising.

He held his hands up defensively. "I'm not my father."

I saw the anger behind his eyes, and thought that maybe he hated Neville, too. "That man deserves to die," I said. "I'm going to kill him, and if you'll stand in my way tell me now. I'll even let you up and we'll have a fair fight."

Nate smiled disbelievingly, shaking his head. "If you can get through all of his men, and you actually _can _kill him, you deserve to."

I removed my sword, stood and walked away, up the stairs. I would have run to Charlie and Maggie, but my entire body was aching and my sense of balance was shattered. I limped into the diner and fell straight to the floor when another wave of vertigo hit.

Nora hurried to my side and tried to help me up, but I waved her away, watching the scene playing out by the counter where Maggie sat. Or had sat. The curly, blonde head of hair had sagged to one side. Her body was limp with the telltale look of death. The final letting go that I'd envied so much for so many years. It was inevitable, I'd realized long ago. But it only then occurred that I didn't want to die. From the lonely childhood to the five good years with James and Dr. Geery, to the once again lonely militia life, I really had felt like dying, most of the time. Another friend gone every battle or so, if they really could be considered friends. Most were loyal to the militia. Only two had become Free-Agents like myself. Both alive to the best of my knowledge, even if it had been two years since I'd seen one and three since I'd seen the other.

Maggie was gone. Miles was holding Charlie while she sobbed softly into his chest, unable to take her eyes off the body. Poor kid. I felt the familiar loss, and berated myself mentally.

_This is what you get for getting attached. You'd be sad to lose any of them, now. Best to extricate yourself soon._

"I'm not going anywhere," Miles said. "I'm not gonna leave."

A hint of a good man was still in there, somewhere. He really would do right by Charlie, I decided. This is just the mission. She doesn't need you.

We buried Maggie late that day. Fashioned a cross to put on the grave. The sun was going down over the tops of big oak trees off the side of the road where we did it. I was still disoriented from the explosion, but there hadn't been much physical damage. I was lucky, I knew, but the headache and hearing loss worried me.

We began walking just before nightfall. Nate was tied up again, and walking between myself and Miles, with Nora in the lead. Charlie was silent as we went. Aaron had tried to hide a few tears at the small funeral ceremony we'd held, and I'd felt sorry for the poor guy. Dammit.

We settled off the road and I started a fire. The others spread out their bedrolls. Nate was stretched out under a tree, with his hands bound in the plastic cuffs and tied to a branch.

The others turned in, and when there wasn't any sound besides steady breathing, I sat by the fire and warmed my hands. Every so often, Charlie's breath would hitch and her exhale would come out in a shaky gasp. I watched her, feeling the need to protect someone else for the first time in two years. Since Frobisher.

A soft voice came from across the fire. "What did my father do to you?"

"He gave the order to kill my family. They weren't really my family, they just took me in. The dad was a doctor. Fixed me up. He'd help anybody they brought to him, and they brought him Militia sometimes, rebels sometimes. There was a camp next to our town. Then one day your dad's unit showed up and killed him and his son for aiding the resistance. Left me, though. I joined up with a rebel guy infiltrating the militia just for the training, and now I have a list. Your dad is on it."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you'll probably escape soon. And I want that son of a bitch to know two things: that I showed mercy to a dumb kid caught up in his father's war when he didn't, and that I am coming for him."

"Maybe I won't tell him. You'd lose your advantage that way."

I grinned at the cold tone of his voice. He really hated the old bastard. I laid back and folded my arms under my head, looking up at the stars. The time of reckoning was coming. I was full of hate, I loved to kill, and I was good at it.

The dream that came to me was something I'd seen before. Waking in the hospital in Philly, after General Monroe made an example of me. It had that dreamlike quality to it. An unreal feeling.

The door opened and I straightened to attention, wincing as my ribs gave a powerful kick. But I bowed my aching head as General Monroe approached, not allowing myself to wince.

"Sir-."

"-At ease," he said softly. His eyes had lost their craze from the day. I checked the window and found night had crept up outside. "I came to see how you were recovering."

"...The doctor said a week of bed rest before I could be back to training."

"Don't worry about that. Just worry about getting better." He smiled. God, he was a handsome man. He could turn on that charm and make all the bad go away. I had to remind myself for a second that I was planning on killing him. I'd kill them all. I'd burn Philly to the ground if I could. The militia was already on shaky ground, ready to spiral out of control and kill even more people for the cause.

"Thank you, Sir." Where was Matheson? I hardly saw the two of them apart, except for in recent weeks. Maybe Matheson's distance and Monroe's coming unhinged walked hand-in-hand.

"...I came here for another reason, though," he confessed, walking from the foot of the bed to the my side, and tracing a hand over the railing. "I came to apologize. My behavior was rash, and I am truly sorry."

"There's no need to apologize. We're here to learn, you have every right to test us."

"To some extent, maybe." He let out a slow breath, fingers resting, outstretched on the covers next to me. He sat on the edge of the bed, in full uniform. "This... life is a hard one. I've seen you with the men, even with other women... you're always alone, among the crowd. Nobody has come to visit you."

"I have a few friends. Their unit is out right now."

_And was due back today, _I reminded myself. Frobisher, and Karen, both.

He watched me a minute, then nodded and stood, folding his arms behind his back, ever the picturesque general. "You know your training has been more extensive than that of a regular soldier. Even those meant for leadership positions. Well I think you've passed your training with flying colors."

"Thank you, Sir." I lowered my gaze, wondering where my friends were, what Monroe was training me fore, and whether I would ever have the courage to leave Philadelphia. I'd come for training, I'd become one of the most accomplished soldiers to come from the Monroe Republic, seen active combat and come out unscathed. When was it enough to kill the men on my list?

"Something on your mind?"

I blinked. Smiled. "May I speak freely?"

"Of course."

_Of course. _Was I an 'of course?' An equal? "Your coat makes you look poofy."

He actually chuckled softly.

The door opened, and I jumped, feeling like I'd done something wrong by smiling with Sebastian Monroe. Frobisher was moving in a huff, obviously concerned, but he stopped and straightened.

"General Monroe-."

"-At ease, Lieutenant Frobisher. How was the mission?"

"Excellent, Sir. No losses on our side."

"Good, good." He started for the door. "Visiting a fellow soldier?"

"Yes Sir. Syracuse is a friend."

"I'm sure." Monroe skirted around Frobisher to get out the door.

He ran to my side the second the door swung closed. He said teasingly, "Jesus, Syracuse, you look even worse than usual."

I smiled. "And you, Frobisher, are a damn fine officer of the Monroe Republic."

"That's below the belt," he muttered.

Frobisher was a few years older than I was. His body was strong, his face was soft, but with a handsome quality that you didn't see very often. Brown hair, brown eyes, and softness for how incredibly deadly he was. I wouldn't want to face him in battle. But mostly he was easy going. Quite the ladies man. I was just about the only girl in Philly he hadn't slept with.

And he was a rebel for the United States of America, to boot. Flag tattooed on his right shoulder, just a tiny square. We'd joined the militia together, when I was fifteen and he was eighteen. We'd been thick as thieves ever since, and it was a little tough seeing him mess around the way he did.

He set a hand on the top of my head, sort of patting it like a dog. "You're a good kid. And this is too much. I think it's time we blew this joint."

"And Monroe, with a working train makes him dangerous, Miles!" Nora called.

"That's not our problem. We're here to find Danny," Charlie said levelly.

I was barely listening, watching Nate in his little cage in the garage. We'd entered the town, hadn't caught any sight of the kid, but had determined that they'd be putting him on the steam train headed to Philly.

"We're wasting time we don't have. Nora, you can do whatever the Hell you want after we get Danny."

I lifted my sword, where I'd been cleaning it. "Let's go."

"Nah," Miles said, shaking his head. He strode over to me, hands on hips. "You're staying here."

"What?" Charlie said.

"Not getting soft on me, are you?"

Miles reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, flinging it at me. "Cat's out of the bag, Syracuse. They want you almost as much as they want me. And I don't trust you not to get captured and screw this all up, so yeah, you're staying here."

"I am not."

"Yeah. You are." He caught both of my wrists and knocked my legs out from under me, dragging me by my arms backward as I struggled against him.

"Let me go you-!"

"-Easy, easy. This is for your own good."

He had one hand secured in a plastic tie and wrapped around the post of a work bench before I could finish my sentence, and the other followed, locking me in place.

He pointed at Charlie. "You. Let's go."

She hurried by, shooting me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Syracuse, but I have to get my brother."

"Look at the bright side, you've got Nipples to keep you company."

I tried to kick him as he strutted away, and even growled as I jerked at the ties. I didn't like being helpless, and I certainly didn't like being left behind. Once they were gone, and only Nate, Aaron and I remained, I muttered, "Asshole."

"Oh please," he said from his cage. "You loved it. I've been watching you two for a while now, and I think him tying you up is the next logical step."

I huffed, not responding, and dragged my upper body up to meet the bar above me, dipping two fingers under the collar of my shirt and into my bra. In a small rip in the fabric, a tiny pocket knife was tucked next to the under wire. When I fumbled it into my hands and began sawing away at the plastic, Aaron jolted to his feet where he was sitting with Charlie's crossbow.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm escaping."

"What? No-no. No escaping."

Nate asked incredulously, "Why would you keep a knife in your bra?"

I snapped through the tie and stood. "Well you've been watching us have sex. You must know how aggressive we get." I winked at Aaron, where he was wide-eyed. He sputtered. I looked back into the cage. "You can steal that trick. It's pretty useful. What are you, a B-cup?"

Nate said, "That's sweet. You're like his little lapdog, aren't you? I bet he makes you call him 'Daddy'."

Instead of disputing it, I just turned and ran to the door, stopping in the light from outside. "See ya when we get back. I'm sure you'll still be here."

He tried to hide a smile.

I ran toward town.

Miles and Charlie were crouched low behind a stack of crates, monitoring the abandoned bank when I found them and slid into a crouch at her side. The place was swarming with soldiers. They definitely couldn't take the place on their own.

"You're late," Miles commented.

"You're an ass!"

Charlie just smiled and shook her head between us. "We think Danny might be in there. But we have no way of getting in. The place is heavily guarded."

"So we don't do it here," Miles said. "We wait until they go to load him onto the train. They'll be exposed then, at least."

"Or...," I was forming a plan, "or we wait until he's on the train. He won't be so guarded if he's in a cell, on board."

"Except then maybe we don't get to him in time," Charlie said.

"Except maybe I'm already on board. I'm wanted, remember?"

They exchanged a glance.

"Look. Getting your cousin back might not be my top priority, here. But I don't want him to die. And this will give me the perfect shot at Tom Neville. He's here, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"That settles it. I'm getting captured. I'll create a big diversion. Either go for Danny then, or wait and find a way onto the train."

"Wait," Miles said. "We'll go back and get Nora first."

"Please," Charlie said, kneeling in front of Nate. "If you know anything that can help us, you have got to tell me."

"I'm sorry. I can't."

She steeled herself. "Well then I can't help you."

Miles drew his sword and moved forward, with every intention of executing the poor, brainwashed boy. I actually felt pity. But the next second, Nate pushed himself back, flipping over so his hands were bound in front of him, and he danced back on very skilled feet. Miles shoved Charlie behind him and I drew my sword, following. Nate hop-scotched over a few piles of debris and up onto the hood of an old car, jumping to catch the beam of the roof where it was torn out, and pulling himself up.

I alone sprinted after, taking my own path up to the hood of the car and barely making it onto the roof. Nate spun at the edge, eyes fierce.

"Don't make me hurt you," he pleaded.

I smiled, shaking my head. It was cute that he thought he could. Then I deliberately sheathed my blade. "My regards to Captain Neville."

He raised an eyebrow. Then I turned and hopped down through the hole in the roof, and onto the hood of the car.

"He got away," I said. "So where the Hell is Nora?"

Aaron spoke. "She's going to put a bomb on the train."


	9. Chapter 9

We slunk in a line, just the three of us up to the building across from the bank. In the alley, I peaked around Charlie's shoulder to see the door opening. A troop of soldier's came out, headed by Tom Neville, with a single civilian in the center. He was a teenage boy, blond, with eyes so blue I could see them from a hundred feet away. He was a little roughed up.

"That's him?"

"Yeah."

"Alright..." I stood, sliding back toward the other alley along the back of the building. "See you on the train."

I slid in the back door of one building, where bar patrons were gambling and rabble-rousing. A stage was in the back, and I saw one Militia soldier at the bar, drinking.

_A scene. A scene. A scene. How to make a scene?_

One man was sitting close by, strumming lazily at a guitar.

"Excuse me," I said, setting a hand on the hilt of my sword, "can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Do you know... any Johnny Cash? Can you do me a 'Folsom Prison Blues?'" He snorted. Started to play a clumsy but recognizable version of the song. "Not here. On stage. Come on. Excuse me!" I yelled, climbing on stage. "Can I get your attention, please?"

I nodded to him. He started to play.

"Any of you heard of the Monroe Militia?"

A chorus of mumbled 'boos' came from the patrons, drunk for how early in the day it was.

"Well, I'm not a fan of them," I said. "In fact they're not a fan of me, either."

The Militia soldier at the bar looked up. He slid out stealthily. The first verse came, and I twisted my hands as I started to sing.

_"Well I hear the train a-comin'. It's rolling round the bend. And I ain't seen the sunshine since -I don't know when- well I'm stuck in Folsom Prison. And time keeps... dragging on."_

"Woo!" someone called.

How was killing people so easy, and singing for people so nerve-racking? At least I could sing. What I lacked in looks, I made up for with a voice that rasped like some old blues singer and a strength I'd perfected in the Militia, but that I'd had since I took voice and piano lessons as a child. Frobisher taught me to play guitar, I remembered, and the memory of him made me smile.

_"But that train keeps a-rolling... on down to San Antone. _-Or maybe Philadelphia!"

More boos came from the crowd, but they were laughing and cheering as I spun.

"_When I was just a baby, my mama told me 'Hun-'," _I said the word languidly and did a sexy dip, then flipped my hair and rasped, _"-'Always be a good girl. Don't ever play with guns! But I shot a -militia man in Reno-. Just to watch him die."_

A chorus of cheers and applause. Someone whistled.

"Damn!"

_"When I hear that whistle blowing... I hang my head and cry."_

The man strummed on.

_"But if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad __train was mine-. I bet I'd move it on a little farther down the line. Far from Folsom Prison. That's where I want to stay. And I'd let that lonesome whistle... blow my blues away-." _I dropped down an octave and bowed. My voice was scratchy and sexy, when I wanted it to be.

Then the doors burst open, and a dozen Militia soldiers poured in. Neville was in the lead.

"Well well. If it isn't number four on the Monroe Republic's most wanted list. Syracuse, isn't it?"

I gave another bow. "Indeed. But that's merely my stage name. Tell me, Tom, if I turn myself in... does that mean I get the reward? You know... for when I escape?"

He smiled with that dead look in his eyes. "I tell you what, Miss Kelly: I'll personally hand it to you when they slip the noose around your neck."

"Such a gentleman," I said, and drew my sword.

The men swarmed forward, while barflies dove out of the way. I met one's sword and ducked under the swing of another, slicing my blade into his stomach as I disconnected. But two of them grabbed me and I hardly put up a fight after that, letting them cuff me, and then walking.

Tom walked beside me. "Whatever you're planning here, it's not going to work. I knew you were in cahoots with them. My son sent your regards."

"I could've killed him, Tom," I said. "But you and I both know I've got bigger fish. And most of them are in Philadelphia. I'll thank you kindly to take me there."

"My _pleasure_," he hissed.

Tom Neville hated me.

I hated him right back as they loaded me onto the train. Walking back through the train cars, we came to a room with several plush seats, tables between. Danny sat at one, his hands cuffed. He watched me with interest. The men remained while Neville cuffed me to the bar that ran under the window, along the wall.

"Dismissed," Tom said.

The men dispersed.

He sat at the table and poured himself a drink. Scotch, I thought.

"You can go ahead and make your introductions," he said. "Don't mind me."

"Hello Danny," I said. "My name is Syracuse Kelly. I'm a friend of your sister's."

"Really?"

"Oh please," Neville smirked. "Like you're fooling anybody, Miss Kelly. You're a friend of his uncle's. Although you're certainly the right age to be a friend of the kid's, aren't you?"

I smiled sweetly. "Tom. Did Julia ever find a cream to make that scar go away?" His face darkened. "Do you think of me every time you're making love to her, and you're kissing her neck, and there's that scar reminding you of how you couldn't protect her?"

"You shut your little whore mouth," he hissed, "if you have any intention of making it to Philadelphia in one piece."

I shrugged. I had been working at cuffs behind my back. There were tiny metal picks tucked into the waist of my jeans, the cuffs of my jacket and even in the souls of my shoes. A second passed, and the train started up with a rumble and a whistle. "Damn, Julia's cute, though. No wonder the guys had that limerick about her in the men's room."

He slammed a fist down on the table as he jumped to his feet. I flinched back, though the cuffs had slid off behind my back. With the back of his hand he struck me on the side of my head. I let out a small noise inside my throat.

Danny yelled, "Don't!"

Neville glared as he turned to face the boy, and I sprang up, using the cuffs that were still hooked on to one wrist to wrap around his throat, tightening them as much as I could. He let out a horrid whooshing sound as the air left. Then I was slammed back into the wall of the train. But I squeezed more tightly on my grip to keep the chain cutting off his air supply. Danny stood frantically, but didn't move. He wasn't cold blooded like me.

"Danny, go," I said, "Get off the train." My breath was strained from the exertion of strangling someone, but Neville was beginning to release his grip on my hands. He was losing consciousness.

Hands clamped down on me and dragged me away, throwing me to the ground but not injuring me. Nate looked between me and his father, regrettably. Neville was getting up a second later, and he came up with a gun. But I was on my feet and knocked his arm up before he could aim. A shot went into the roof of the train car.

Scenery from the country side was racing by outside the window. Danny smashed the glass of whiskey over Neville's head. He went down.

Charlie bounded through the open door that Nate had come through, throwing her arms around her brother's neck. Nate was facing me, but he didn't move to harm me.

"Come on!" Charlie yelled.

She turned to run, but two Militia men had come in, and were fully armed. Nate snagged Charlie, pulling her into his arms with an arm locked around her throat, holding her steady. I pushed Danny behind me when the men turned their guns to us. The act surprised even me. But he was dragged away a second later, by Neville. I reached out and grabbed Charlie's crossbow. It was still strapped to her shoulder, so I was close to her and Nate as I aimed at the soldier's.

For a second, there was only heavy breathing and tension. It was a standoff.

"Put the guns down," I hissed.

Charlie jerked at Nate's hold on her. I swear, he turned his body so his back was facing me, and his large, muscular frame was the perfect shield. I slid partially behind him so the standoff was more even.

"Put 'em down."

"Do you want me to snap the kid's neck?" Neville growled. "If I've got you and the girl, I think Monroe will be perfectly... happy."

I stole a glance back at him, finger twitching on the trigger. My brain was racing. _No way out. You've been in sticky situations before. Think. One shot. Two men at one door. Neville at the other. Might hit Danny. He might kill Danny. If I stay they'll kill me. They might shoot me if I run._

I swore under my breath. If Frobisher were there, we'd find a way. We'd make it out. He was lucky that way. But he wasn't there.

Behind the two men, Miles landed stealthily. His sword sliced through one of their chest's, and the other wheeled around, firing wildly. He ducked back and the two of them tumbled out onto the rigging between the train cars, fighting over the gun. I turned and fired at Tom, but for fear of hitting Danny I missed him entirely. Neville threw him aside and charged at me. I backed up and tripped over my own feet.

Rough hands caught me and jerked me back through the door. _Miles. _Nate had backed up to the corner with Charlie still locked in his arms, struggling away.

Neville hissed, "Bring me the girl. I'm gonna shoot the bitch."

My heart locked up in fear. He had his gun. The door burst open on the other side of the car, and men went streaming in, cutting off Danny from view. Miles made a move to go back in, but Nate kicked open the small, emergency exit door, and threw Charlie out.

I tried to go back in, but Miles grabbed my arm and dragged me close to him.

"No!" I screamed, fighting against him.

But he jerked his arms and shoved me off the train. I hit the ground harder than I'd imagined was possible, and barely shielded my head, rolling away from the noisy train tracks. I heard him land after me, but my head was spinning too much to look around.

I clutched my aching ribs, then stumbled to my feet and onto the tracks. Charlie was running after the train, stopping with a defeated sob and her lower lip trembling.

Miles limped over to me. I turned on him.

"He was right there!" I slammed a hand into his chest, knocking him back a step.

"You'll get another chance at Tom. We're going to Philly, now."

"I wasn't talking about Tom," I whispered spitefully.

He frowned at me, and I kept an arm wrapped around my stomach to hold my ribs in place as I started walking back toward the town. I knew what it was. I wasn't just suddenly growing a heart. The kid reminded me of James.

...Author's note: Sex and drugs is coming up. Which means... well... sex and drugs. Not for all ages. Please review! I love your reviews, they keep me alive.


	10. Chapter 10

That night we set up camp in the woods, and I lit a fire. We were heading toward Philly, already. Every step closer made me more nervous. Nora was patching up her wound from a rebel buddy.

Watching her lay down, wincing at the tenderness in her side, I said, "What unit are you from? The rebels, I mean."

She eyed me.

I blushed a little. "I only ask because I had a friend from the St. Anne Unit."

"Oh really? Who?"

"His name is Scott Frobisher."

She raised an eyebrow, not suspicious this time. "Really? He's a friend of yours?"

"Yeah. So you know him?"

"I never met him. I'd only heard of him. He was a Free Agent, like you, who was always out on assignments. He was the best assassin the rebels had."

"Was?"

"Oh... is, probably."

I swallowed. "So you don't know if he's still alive?"

"No. I'm not sure, I mean."

I nodded, looking into the fire for a few seconds. It crackled, filling the silence. Aaron dug at the ground with a stick. Charlie was asleep on her bedroll. Miles was staring up. He did that a lot. The stars were out. The others started to drift off. I don't know what it was about me and him, but we didn't sleep much. Probably all the faces. So many that they weren't individual faces, anymore. They melted together and any face I saw could have been someone I'd killed. I'd see children on the streets and wonder if I killed them in their past life.

Not that I believed in that crap.

I leaned toward him and murmured, "I need to talk to you."

He stood silently and followed me out into the woods. When the flickering of the campfire was only a spark through the trees, I sighed, and leaned on a tree. I missed the sex already, and it had only been one night.

"We can't do this any more."

He shot me a look, like I was insane. I felt a little insane.

"I mean it. I've been really stupid. I haven't even asked you about STD's, we don't have protection, and I _cannot_ get pregnant-."

"-Whoa, whoa." He waved a hand, stepping closer. "Slow down. Come on, do you really think I'd be doing this if I thought I'd hurt you?"

"I barely know you."

"Well I wouldn't. I'm clean. And the pregnancy thing... that's... I'm snipped."

I eyed him. He wouldn't meet my gaze. He cleared his throat. I laughed suddenly. "You're so uncomfortable. You've seen parts of me I didn't even know existed and you're uncomfortable talking about a vasectomy." I kept giggling.

He rolled his eyes, but took another step closer, reaching out to slide his hands down around me, into the small of my back. He pulled me into him, so our bodies were tight against one another. "So...?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my head. But the only thought on my mind was where his hips were pressed against mine, and how lovely it felt. It felt like immortality. When he moved against me, I felt a tiny whimper escape, and cleared my throat.

"Well..." I licked my lips once, then bounced up onto my toes and kissed him, hands starting to work at un-tucking his shirt from his belt. But I separated from him a second later, hearing running water in the distance. We were near a river. "Come on," I said, and dragged him through the trees.

The river was black, reflecting a rippling version of the night sky, with a full moon above visible perfectly through the clearing.

"Perfect," I whispered.

Then Miles' hands were on my hips, pulling me back against him, and his lips were trailing down the back of my ear to my neck. I shut my eyes. Then he spun me around and kissed me fiercely, stripping off his coat. We fell to our knees and he clumsily tried to smooth the jacket out below me in the dirt, laying me down.

His desperate hands were pulling at my clothes seconds later, wasting no time. We undressed each other, and he kept his lips at mine, soft and heavenly. His hands slid down my arms, then traced back up the other sides and he cupped one breast softly. I rolled my hips, whimpering as he rolled my nipple between his fingertips. His lips moved down my neck, and his entire body slid down, pulling away from me.

When his lips found my other nipple I focused on breathing deeply. Then his teeth scraped my skin and I hissed, forgetting how for a few seconds, kneading my hands in his hair.

His hands slid down my sides, warm and a little rough. They gripped my hips, then moved on to skim my thighs, outside and in, rubbing the soft skin there and trailing his mouth down to my stomach. His hand grazed me where I was waiting to feel him. Seeming to drop the pretense, he ducked down and pulled me closer to him, pursing his lips against my flesh while easing a finger into me.

I let out a low moan, covering my mouth to muffle the sounds I made, unable to contain myself from what his tongue was doing to me.

"Oh-!" I called when he added a second finger, stroking my walls.

The moon was full overhead, seeming to stare down at us. It was exhilarating. Then the sensations were suddenly gone, and he moved to hang over me again. He kissed me passionately, and I fought back with my tongue, spreading my legs to allow his hips to come closer and wrapping my arms around him to bring his chest down against my chest.

His body rubbed against mine, pinning me down as he slid his length into me. For a second I was frozen in bliss. That perfect fit. The reaches of his hardness filling me. When he started to move I brought my knees up on either side of him, moving my hips in a fluid motion as he thrust into my heat.

_So good._

I kept rocking my knees so he stretched me in new ways, each movement teasing new nerve endings. His movements became more desperate, and each thrust was a single, jerking crash where our bodies came together. I whimpered after each impact, my muscles beginning to contract.

"God-," I gasped. "Ung."

He groaned softly into my hair, hands softly cupping my ass to pull me against him as he drove himself into me.

"Uh," I whimpered as everything came undone, and I winced from the pleasure.

He pulled out of me a few seconds later, and I heard his hiss of breath. Then he laid beside me, very close on the single coat, and we breathed for minutes, maybe an hour, looking up. There was an unspoken connection. We had sex, we were good at it, and we liked it that way. We weren't suddenly going to start sharing our feelings.

I said plainly, "I think I have daddy issues."

He stared at me for a second, then cracked a smile. He chuckled, and I laughed, and I realized I'd made a friend.

I stood after a while, flipping my hair out and padding over to the water on my toes, hoping my body looked as good as I imagined but knowing it did not. I looked back, turning so the curves of my body showed. "You should come in."

And then I walked out a few steps and ducked below the surface, wetting my hair. I came back up and wiped the water away from my face, seeing him wade in after me. My heart rate increased. I floated gracefully along until Miles caught my foot and dragged me back to him. The water was cold, causing goose bumps to form on my exposed skin, and my nipples to harden to point. He took each of my hands and pulled me even closer, so I was pressed against him, chest to chest.

"I'm actually terrified of water," I said. "If I could feel the ground right now, I'd be freaking out."

He didn't answer, just kissed me deeply. I ran my fingers through his hair, matting it down and spiking it up a little in places. I forgot how to breathe for a second, and it felt like I couldn't feel the ground.

When we came up for air, I gasped for the breath I'd been missing. He smiled a little, shaking his head, and moved to break away. I grabbed his hand. "Don't go yet. You didn't even get wet."

He looked away. "What are we doing, here?"

I was stunned for a moment. "I think we're friends."

"Yeah."

"Who are you worried about getting attached? Me or you?"

He didn't answer.

"Well let me ease your mind. You couldn't ever be attached to me, because you're a self-centered jerk, and I'm not pretty enough for anything but a casual screw. I feel nothing for you. I promise."

He gave a nod. "Let's head back."

We dressed in silence. I picked up Miles' sword before he got the chance to, and handed it to him. He accepted casually. There was a trust there, whether we liked it or not. Before we started back, he ducked to kiss me once more.

Two days passed. Nora's condition deteriorated quickly, an infection spreading from the cut in her side, turning the skin a sickly green and making the veins stand out in dark black. The fever came on over night and she was delirious in the morning.

"She needs a doctor," Charlie said, ever the saint. "Or at least some antibiotics."

"We'll hit the closest town-," Aaron volunteered hopefully.

Miles cut him down sharply. "No. We're too close to Philly. The Militia's looking for all of us."

"So what are we gonna do?"

"I know a place," he said, though he didn't sound happy about it. "Syracuse, with me."

The two of us strayed dangerously close to town. Lurking in the trees next to a distinctive trail, we waited until a wagon of several Monroe Militia soldiers came rolling around the bend. Miles walked out with steady steps and the thing screeched to a halt.

He gave only the smallest flick of his sword as the first man jumped from the back and charged at him. The soldier fell to the ground. I ran out as the other soldiers jumped down, drawing their swords. I stabbed through one's chest before he saw me coming, then spun with an upward cut that sliced deep into another's abdomen, from hip to shoulder. Blood spurted out and a few drops landed on my boots. Miles had two more on the ground.

The only one left was the driver, who dropped the reigns of the horses, holding his hands up defensively. "Please don't-."

I stepped up to him and grabbed him, sliding my sword's sharp edge across his throat with a jerk of my arm. He tumbled limply off the perch. Killing him was necessary. We couldn't afford to leave loose ends that could report our whereabouts, and I didn't really care to spare any militia soldier.

We took the wagon and headed back to where the others were waiting, where I helped pull Nora into the back. She groaned weakly. I felt a little pity. I didn't really like Nora after the stunt she pulled on the train, but I didn't want to see her die, if only for Charlie's sake. It was her quest. She took the deaths to be her responsibility.

I'd felt the same way, a very long time ago, when I was very young.

In Philadelphia, at night, there were enough lights from fires and candles on that the place almost felt like the world had before the blackout. That was the appeal of the place. The walls around the town were three stories high, impossible to scale. They were constantly monitored by a troop of soldiers. I'd had my turns on the wall, before, of course. Decorated soldier, training to be the best of the best. For what purpose? Frobisher didn't go through as much training. He had the course longer than foot soldiers; trained to be an officer because of the obvious potential.

Frobisher and I walked among the barracks after lights out, hands tucked into our pockets to fight the cold of the fall night. I blew out a breath, and it misted. "Usual patrols."

"Mm-hm," he affirmed. He looked mischievous when he bit his lip, wiggling his eyebrows. "So General Monroe visited you after putting you in the hospital. Did you two get cozy?"

"I didn't have a shot at his throat, if that's what you're asking."

"Easy now. Just curious what the good general wanted."

"You know he's training me for something special."

"Yup. Did you find out what?"

"No. But he said I'd passed my training."

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Ooh," he murmured, "Big shot, general-to-be slumming it with the likes of me. I'm flattered."

I stared at him, smiling in confusion. "General-to-be? No-."

A siren went off, the old sounding kind that was without electricity, like a continuous horn. I wheeled around to watch the men on the wall, who rushed to confer with each other. The towns seemed still, but panic spiked in me.

"What's going on?" I called over the roar.

"Going into lock down."

"Do we wait?"

He took only a second. "No. We go now."

The escape wasn't ever going to be easy. The militia viewed its soldiers as investments, and if we took off with our skill and trainings, to fight for someone else, that was a grave offense, punishable by death.

"Stealth is no longer an option," I said as we hurried into the shadows of one building. Someone would be coming by to herd everybody inside. "What's the best idea you've got?"

"Subway tunnels?"

"Won't work. If we're on lock down it'll be heavily guarded."

"Take a shift on the wall, fight our way out?"

"Big guns, we wouldn't make it five feet out on the other side."

We bounced ideas off each other effortlessly, two parts of one mind. Karen was scoping out the gated entrance to the wall, on the eastern side of Philly.

I said, "We have to meet Karen at the rendezvous point. I only see one way we'll get out of here tonight."

"Hostage."

I gave a small nod, then we started at a jog for the bakery we were to meet at. I was panting a mile in, but Frobisher showed no signs of breaking.

"Monroe and Matheson will be guarded," I wheezed.

"Not Matheson," he said, a tiny smile on his face as he shook his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just a hunch about the lock down."

"Should we try for him, then?"

"He'd kill us both," Frobisher breezed.

He held up a hand to stop me, seeing something on the street ahead, and shoved me over into an empty alley, pressing flat to the brick wall behind me and pinning me with his body close to mine. We were silent as a few men ran by with big guns. I wiped sweat off my forehead and hunched over.

"I hate running," I murmured. "So who do we get? Neville? Baker? Not Strausser."

He laughed. "Not Strausser. What a scary prick."

"Maybe Hudson's our best bet. Baker and Neville would be guarding General Monroe, personally."

"I have it on good authority Hudson won't be around at the moment."

I looked at him heavily, not sure what he wasn't telling me. But there was enough trust for me to hold off on the questions. "Julia."

He whistled. "I'd take her hostage any day."

"Haven't you?"

"Nah. She's one of those loyal types."

"How annoying for you."

"Let's do this. We get Karen. Then we get Julia. Then we get the Hell outta Philly."


End file.
